University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


€biticm 


THE  WRITINGS   OF 
HARRIET  BEECHER   STOWE 

WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL  INTRODUCTIONS 

PORTRAITS,   AND   OTHER 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN  SIXTEEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME   XV 


HOUGHTON,  MIFPLIN  &  CO. 


RELIGIOUS    STUDIES 
SKETCHES  AND  POEMS 


BY 


HARRIET   BEECHER  £TOWE 


BOSTON  AND    NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 
(C&e  fitoetfi&e  $«<&, 
1896 


BY'PHlLlJIPfe,*SA*MP30N  &  CO. 

Copyright,  18G7,  1883,  and  1895, 
BY  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 

Copyright,  1876, 
BY  J.  B.  FORD  &  CO. 

Copyright,  1896, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 
RELIGIOUS  STUDIES. 
FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  MASTER. 


I.  CHRIST  IN  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT        ....  1 

II.  CHRIST  IN  PROPHECY       .......  11 

Christmas 

III.  THE  CRADLE  OF  BETHLEHEM     .....  23 

IV.  THE  BLESSED  WOMAN      .......  30 

V.  THE  HOLY  CHILDHOOD         ......  40 


VI.  GENTILE  PROPHECIES  OF  CHRIST  .....  44 

VII.  THE  HIDDEN  YEARS  OF  CHRIST         ....  52 

lent 

VIII.  THE  PRAYER-LIFE  OF  JESUS  ......  57 

IX.  THE  TEMPTATIONS  OF  JESUS       .....  62 

X.   OUR  LORD'S  BIBLE    ........  66 

XL  CHRIST'S  FIRST  SERMON       ......  71 

XII.  THE  FRIENDSHIPS  OF  JESUS    ......  75 

XIII.  CHRIST'S  UNWORLDLY  METHODS         ....  83 

XIV.  CHRIST  AND  THE  FALLEN  WOMAN         ....  87 
XV.  THE  REVEALER  OF  GOD'S  SYMPATHY       ...  94 

XVI.  THE  ATTRACTIVENESS  OF  JESUS     .....  108 

XVII.  THE  TOLERANCE  OF  JESUS  ......  117 

XVIII.  THE  SILENCE  OF  JESUS  .......  121 

XIX.  THE  SECRET  OF  PEACE        ......  125 

XX.  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  MASTER  .....  130 

XXI.  JUDAS       ..........  143 


}taoton 

XXII.  GOING  UP  TO  JERUSALEM        .       .  .       .       .150 

XXIII.  THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE        .       .       .       -    _.       .       155 

980348 


vi  CONTENTS 

XXIV.  CAIAPHAS    ..........  159 

XXV.  THE  JOY  OF  CHRIST      .......  162 

XXVI.  GETHSEMANE      .........  165 

XXVII.  THE  LAST  WORDS  OF  JESUS       .....  170 

XXVIII.  THE  DARKEST  HOUR        .......  174 

(faster 

XXIX.  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  JESUS     .....  177 


XXX.  THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD        .....  183 

XXXI.  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT  ........  184 

XXXII.  CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS        .        .  186 

EARTHLY  CARE  A  HEAVENLY  DISCIPLINE    .....  194 

THE  MINISTRATION  OF  OUR  DEPARTED  FRIENDS    ....  202 

RELIGIOUS  SKETCHES. 

CHILDREN         ...........  208 

THE  OLD  OAK  OF  ANDOVER    ........  212 

THE  ELDER'S  FEAST  :  A  TRADITION  OF  LAODICEA         .        .  217 

A  SCENE  IN  JERUSALEM  .........  226 

THE  OLD  MEETING-HOUSE    ........  234 

LITTLE  EDWARD         ..........  243 

CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION      ......  250 

How  DO  WE  KNOW    ..........  258 

How  TO  MAKE  FRIENDS  WITH  MAMMON  .....  263 

THE  SABBATH    ...........  273 

RELIGIOUS  POEMS. 

ST.  CATHERINE  BORNE  BY  ANGELS    ......  301 

THE  CHARMER    ........        .        .        .  304 

KNOCKING        ...........  306 

THE  OLD  PSALM  TUNE     .........  309 

THE  OTHER  WORLD       .........  312 

MARY  AT  THE  CROSS        .........  314 

THE  INNER  VOICE  ..........  317 

ABIDE  IN  ME,  AND  I  IN  YOU  ........  319 

THE  SECRET    ...........  321 

THINK  NOT  ALL  is  OVER         ........  322 

LINES  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  "ANNIE"       .....  323 

THE  CROCUS       ...........  325 

CONSOLATION  ...........  327 

"ONLY  A  YEAR"       ..........  329 

BELOW      ............  331 

ABOVE  ....  .332 


CONTENTS  Vli 

LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  WlFE  OF  MOSES 

STUART .       •       •       •  334 

SUMMER  STUDIES 337 

THE  SHEPHERDS'  CAROL 340 

HOURS  OF  THE  NIGHT  ;  OR,  WATCHES  OF  SORROW. 

I.  MIDNIGHT 342 

II.  FIRST  HOUR 344 

III.  SECOND  HOUR 346 

IV.  THIRD  HOUR 348 

V.  FOURTH  HOUR 350 

VI.  DAY  DAWN 354 

VII.  WHEN  I  AWAKE  I  AM  STILL  WITH  THEE     .        .       .356 
PRESSED  FLOWERS  FROM  ITALY. 

A  DAY  IN  THE  PAMFILI  DORIA 358 

THE  GARDENS  OF  THE  VATICAN 362 

ST.  PETER'S  CHURCH 363 

THE  MISERERE 364 

The  frontispiece  portrait  of  Mrs.  Stowe  is  from  a  photograph  taken  in 
1862. 

The  vignette  (Mrs.  Stowe's  home  at  Andover,  Mass.)  is  from  a  painting 
in  1860  by  F.  Roundel. 


INTEODUCTOEY  NOTE. 

"No  one  can  read  Mrs.  Stowe's  writings  as  a  whole  with- 
out perceiving  how  constant  is  the  appeal  to  the  religious 
sensibilities.  Her  greatest  book,  which  took  captive  the 
humblest  reader  and  such  a  genius  in  literature  as  George 
Sand,  was  in  a  marked  degree  a  religious  book ;  and  again 
and  again,  even  in  playful  scenes,  there  is  a  quick  passage 
to  the  religious  nature.  The  explanation  is  in  the  simple 
fact  that  Mrs.  Stowe  herself  from  early  girlhood  to  her 
latest  years  was  governed  by  religion,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising, therefore,  that  an  entire  volume  should  be  gathered 
from  her  writings  exclusively  given  over  to  direct  expres- 
sion of  religious  feeling  and  thought. 

She  would  gladly,  especially  in  her  later  life,  have  con- 
fined herself  to  writing  of  this  sort,  for  the  realities  of  faith, 
especially  the  presence  of  the  Divine  Master,  came  to  have 
a  commanding  power  over  her  mind  and  heart,  and  to  make 
her  almost  impatient  of  much  concern  about  adventures  of 
the  ordinary  sort.  Even  the  reminiscence  of  the  racy  life 
of  the  New  England  of  her  childhood  could  not  absorb  her. 
"  I  would  much  rather/'  she  writes  in  1876  to  her  son 
Charles,  "have  written  another  such  a  book  as  Footsteps 
of  the  Master,  but  all,  even  the  religious  papers,  are  gone 
mad  on  serials."  The  book  which  she  was  then  writing 
was  Poganuc  People,  and  the  reader  knows  what  a  thread 
of  religious  experience  runs  through  that  lively  narrative. 

Footsteps  of  the  Master  was  published  in  1877.  In  its 
original  form,  each  section  contained  interludes  of  verse, 
sometimes  her  own,  more  frequently  hymns  and  poems 


x  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

from  well-known  sources.  There  were  also  scriptural  pas- 
sages illustrative  of  the  great  divisions,  and  the  book  was 
set  forth  thus  as  a  devotional  companion.  In  reissuing  it 
in  this  volume,  the  poems  by  the  author  have  been  pre- 
served in  the  section  given  to  her  Keligious  Poems ;  the 
others  and  the  illustrative  scriptural  passages  have  been 
omitted  and  Mrs.  Stowe's  Meditations  preserved  in  their 
continuous  form.  The  word  "To  the  Reader/7  prefixed  to 
the  volume,  is  as  follows :  — 

When  a  city  is  closely  besieged  and  many  of  its  out- 
works destroyed,  the  defenders  retreat  to  the  citadel.  In 
our  day  there  is  warm  fighting  about  the  outworks  of  Chris- 
tianity. Many  things  are  battered  down  that  used  to  be 
thought  indispensable  to  its  defense.  It  is  time  to  retreat 
to  the  citadel ;  and  that  citadel  is  CHRIST. 

The  old  mediaeval  symbol  shown  above 1  is  still  more 
than  ever  good  for  our  day.  Jesus  Christ  of  Nazareth  is 
still  our  King,  our  Light,  our  Law,  our  Leader.  These 
names  comprise  all  that  a  human  being  needs  in  this  trans- 
itory, perplexing  and  dangerous  pilgrimage  of  life. 

We  are  born  to  suffer.  The  very  conditions  of  our  mor- 
tal existence  here  imply  suffering  of  the  most  terrible  kind 
as  a  possibility,  a  probability,  or  a  certainty.  We  have 
affections  absorbing  our  whole  being  which  are  hourly  men- 
aced by  danger  and  by  death  —  at  any  moment  our  sweetest 
joys  may  become  sources  only  of  bitterest  remembrance. 

We  are  born  to  perplexity.  We  stand  amid  the  jar  and 
conflict  of  a  thousand  natural  laws,  to  us  inexplicable,  and 
which  every  hour  threaten  us  in  ourselves  or  those  dearer 
than  ourselves.  We  stand  often  in  no  less  perplexity  of 
moral  law  in  ways  where  the  path  of  duty  and  right  is 
darkened  and  beset. 

We  are  born  to  die.  At  the  end  of  every  possible  road 
l  The  familiar  combination  of  Rex.  Lux,  Lex,  Dux. 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE  xi 

of  life  lies  the  dark  River  —  the  unknown  future.  If  we 
cling  to  life,  it  is  only  to  see  it  wither  gradually  in  our 
hands,  to  see  friends  dropping  from  our  side,  places  vacant 
at  our  fireside,  infirmities  and  pains  gathering  about  us,  and 
a  new  generation  with  their  impetuous  energies  rising  around 
us  to  say,  Why  do  you  wait  here  ?  Why  are  you  not  gone? 

And  the  Hereafter  ?  What  is  it  ?  Who  will  go  with 
us  into  that  future  where  no  friend,  however  dear,  can 
accompany  the  soul  ?  What  hand  of  power  and  love  will 
take  ours  in  the  last  darkness,  when  we  have  let  go  all 
others  ? 

The  dear  old  book  which  we  call  the  Bible  gives  our 
answer  to  all  this.  It  tells  us  of  a  Being  so  one  with  the 
great  Author  of  nature  and  Source  of  all  power  that  whoso 
hath  seen  him  hath  seen  the  Creator.  It  tells  us  that  all 
things  that  we  behold  in  our  material  world  were  made  by 
him  and  for  him :  that  it  pleased  the  Father  that  in  him 
should  all  fullness  dwell,  and  that  to  him  all  things  in 
heaven  and  on  earth  are  made  subject.  It  shows  him  to  us 
from  the  beginning  of  time  as  constantly  absorbed  in  the 
care  and  education  of  this  world  of  ours.  He  has  been  the 
Desire  of  all  nations  —  predicted,  waited  for,  come  at  last ! 

And  when  he  came  and  lived  a  mortal  life  what  did  he 
show  the  divine  nature  to  be  ?  It  may  all  be  told  in  one 
word :  —  LOVE.  Love,  unconquered,  unconquerable  by 
human  sin  and  waywardness.  Love,  sympathetic  with  the 
inevitable  sorrows  of  human  existence.  Love,  expressed 
in  every  form  by  which  a  God  could  express  love.  His 
touch  was  healing ;  the  very  hem  of  his  garment  had  re- 
storing virtue.  He  lived  and  loved  as  we  live  and  love, 
only  on  a  higher  ideal,  —  he  gave  to  every  human  affection 
a  more  complete  interpretation,  a  more  perfect  fullness. 
And  finally,  as  the  highest  revelation  of  Love,  he  died  for 
us,  and  in  anguish  and  blood  and  dying  pains  still  loved, 
still  prayed  for  us,  the  ungrateful  race  of  man.  He  passed 


xii  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

through  the  night  of  death  that  he  might  learn  not  to  fear 
it,  and  came  forth  radiant  and  immortal  to  tell  us  that  we 
shall  never  die. 

By  a  refinement  of  infinite  mercy,  the  law  of  our  lives  is 
written  not  in  hard  statutes  but  in  the  life  of  this  tender 
and  sympathetic  friend.  Christ  is  our  law.  We  learn 
courage,  patience,  fortitude,  forgiving  love  from  him.  The 
lesson  impossible  in  statute  is  made  easy  by  sympathy. 
But  lest  the  very  brightness  of  the  ideal  fill  us  with  despair 
we  have  his  promise,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway  to  the  end 
of  the  world !  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless.  I  will 
come  to  you."  Jesus,  as  an  inseparable  soul-friend  —  a 
consoler,  a  teacher,  an  enlightener  —  dwells  on  earth  now 
in  a  higher  sense  than  when  he  walked  the  hills  of  Pales- 
tine. 

"  Forever  more  beside  us  on  our  way, 

The  unseen  Christ  doth  move, 
That  we  may  lean  upon  his  arm  and  say, 

'Dost  thou,  dear  Lord,  approve  ?  '  " 

To  that  great  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number,  who 
are  living  the  hidden  life  of  faith,  these  studies  into  the  life 
of  our  Master  are  dedicated.  They  have  been  arranged  in 
the  order  of  the  seasons  of  the  Christian  year,  with  the 
hope  of  aiding  the  efforts  of  those  who  wish  at  these  sacred 
seasons  to  bring  our  Lord  more  clearly  to  mind. 

We  hear  much  of  modern  skepticism.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  more  in  the  world  now  than  there  has  always  been,  only 
its  forms  are  changed.  Its  answer  lies  not  in  argument,  but 
in  the  lives  of  Christ's  followers.  It  was  Christians  who 
lived  like  Christ  that  won  the  first  battle  for  Christianity, 
and  it  must  be  Christians  who  live  like  Christ  that  shall  win 
the  last.  The  life  of  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  when  fully 
lived  out,  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  a  victorious 
argument. 

But  to  live  this  our  faith  must  be  firm.  We  cannot 
meet  a  skeptical  world  with  weak  faith.  If  we  would 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE  xiii 

draw  our  friend  out  of  a  swift-rushing  current,  our  own  feet 
must  not  stand  on  slippery  places.  We  must  seek  faith  in 
looking  to  Him  who  has  the  giving  of  it.  We  must  keep 
Him  before  our  minds,  and  come  so  near  Him  in  daily 
prayer  that  we  can  say :  "  That  which  we  have  seen  with 
our  eyes,  which  we  have  looked  upon  and  our  hands  have 
handled,  of  the  Word  of  Life,  declare  we  unto  you." 

And  even  to  those  who  have  no  conscious  belief  in 
Christ,  his  name  can  never  be  a  matter  of  indifference. 
Whether  they  believe  it  or  not,  Christ  stands  to  them  in  a 
peculiar  relation  that  no  other  being  holds.  He  is  their 
best  Friend,  the  Shepherd  that  is  seeking  them,  the  gener- 
ous Saviour  and  Giver  that  is  longing  to  save  them  from 
all  that  they  fear  and  to  give  exceeding  abundantly  beyond 
all  they  can  ask  or  think. 

The  other  Studies  and  the  Religious  Sketches  which 
follow  are  drawn  from  the  early  Mayflower  and  intimate 
how  instinctively  in  the  beginning  of  her  career  as  a  writer 
Mrs.  Stowe  turned  her  mind  in  this  direction.  Her  poems 
appeared  at  irregular  intervals  and  were  gathered  into  a 
volume  by  themselves  in  1867.  The  collection  then  issued 
is  here  slightly  enlarged  by  the  inclusion  of  one  or  two 
estrays. 


RELIGIOUS  STUDIES 


FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE  MASTER 
I 

CHKIST    IN    THE    OLD    TESTAMENT 

"  The  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 
OUR  Lord  asserts  nothing  more  frequently  than  that  he 
came  to  this  world,  not  as  other  men  come,  but  as  a  volun- 
tary exile  from  a  higher  and  purer  life.  He  said  in  pub- 
lic, speaking  to  the  Jews,  "I  came  down  from  heaven,  not 
to  do  my  own  will,  but  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me." 
When  the  Jews  tauntingly  said  to  him,  "Thou  art  not  yet 
fifty  years  old,  and  hast  thou  seen  Abraham  1 "  he  an- 
swered, "Before  Abraham  was,  I  AM."  In  fact,  while  he 
walked  as  a  brother  among  men,  there  were  constant  and 
mysterious  flashes  from  the  life  of  a  higher  sphere.  Jesus 
moved  about  in  our  life  as  a  sympathetic  foreigner  who 
ever  and  anon  in  moments  of  high  excitement  breaks  out 
into  his  native  language.  So  Christ  at  times  rose  into  the 
language  of  heaven,  and  spoke  for  a  moment,  unconsciously 
as  it  were,  in  the  style  of  a  higher  world. 

He  did  not  say,  "Before  Abraham  was,  I  was,"  but  "I 
AM,"  using  the  same  form  which  in  the  Old  Testament  is 
used  by  Jehovah  when  he  declares  his  name  to  Moses,  "I 
AM  that  I  am."  So,  too,  when  conversing  with  Nico- 
demus,  our  Lord  asserts  that  he  is  the  only  person  compe- 


2  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE  MASTER 

tent  to  bear  testimony  to  heavenly  things,  because  he  came 
from  heaven.  ^ 

*0fe;*ja$B|  "No  man  hath  ascended  into  heaven  but  he 
that  came'  dbVn  from  heaven,  even  the  Son  of  man  which 
/!  \-  j  u£«  hi  iieivfcn. "  *:  This  last  is  one  of  those  changes  into  the 
language 'of  a  Higher  world  which  so  often  awed  and  per- 
plexed those  who  talked  with  Jesus.  It  would  seem  that 
he  had  the  power  by  moments  to  breathe  aside  the  veil 
which  separates  from  the  higher  state,  and  to  be  in  heaven. 
Such  a  moment  was  this,  when  he  was  declaring  to  an 
honest-minded,  thoughtful  inquirer  the  higher  truths  of 
the  spiritual  life,  and  asserting  his  right  to  know  about 
heavenly  things,  because  he  came  down  from  heaven  — 
yea,  because  for  the  moment  he  was  in  heaven. 

But  in  the  last  hours  of  his  life,  when  he  felt  the 
scenes  of  his  humiliations  and  sufferings  approaching,  he 
declared  this  truth,  so  often  shadowed  and  intimated,  with 
explicit  plainness.  He  said,  "I  came  forth  from  the 
Father,  and  am  come  into  the  world.  Again,  I  leave  the 
world,  and  go  to  the  Father."  This  was  stating  the  truth 
as  plainly  as  human  words  can  do  it,  and  the  disciples  at 
last  understood  him  fully.  "Lo!  now  speakest  thou 
plainly,  and  speakest  no  proverb."  And  in  that  affecting 
prayer  that  followed  our  Lord  breathes  the  language  of  an 
exile  longing  to  return  to  the  home  of  his  love:  "And 
now,  0  Father!  glorify  me  with  thine  own  self  —  with 
the  glory  that  I  had  with  thee  before  the  world  was." 

It  is  then  most  plain  on  the  face  of  the  New  Testament 
that  our  Lord  had  a  history  before  he  came  to  this  world. 
He  was  a  living  power.  He  was,  as  he  says,  in  glory 
with  the  Father  before  the  world  was.  Are  there  any 
traces  of  this  mysterious  Word,  this  divine  Son,  this 
Eevealer  of  God  in  the  Old  Testament?  It  has  been  the 
approved  sentiment  of  sound  theologians  that  in  the  Old 
Testament  every  visible  appearance  of  an  Angel  or  divine 


CHRIST  IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  3 

Man  to  whom  the  name  of  Jehovah  is  given  is  a  pre- 
appearance  of  the  Redeemer,  Jesus.  It  is  a  most  interest- 
ing study  to  pursue  this  idea  through  the  Old  Testament 
history,  as  is  fully  done  by  President  Edwards  in  his 
"History  of  Redemption"  and  by  Dr.  Watts  in  his  "True 
Glory  of  Christ."  In  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost "  he  repre- 
sents the  Son  of  God  as  being  "the  Lord  God  who  walked 
in  the  Garden  of  Eden "  after  the  trespass  of  our  first 
parents,  and  dwells  on  the  tenderness  of  the  idea  that  it 
was  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  — 

"  when  from  wrath  more  cool 
Came  the  mild  Judge  and  Intercessor  both." 

This  sentiment  of  the  church  has  arisen  from  the  plain 
declaration  in  the  first  chapter  of  John,  where  it  is  plainly 
asserted  that  "no  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time,  but  the 
only  begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father, 
he  hath  declared  him."  The  Old  Testament  records  to 
which  our  Lord  constantly  appealed  were  full  of  instances 
in  which  a  being  called  Jehovah,  and  spoken  of  as  God,  — 
the  Almighty  God,  —  had  appeared  to  men,  and  the  infer- 
ence is  plain  that  all  these  were  pre-appearances  of  Christ. 

It  is  an  interesting  study  for  the  sacred  season  of  Advent 
to  trace  those  pre-appearances  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  in 
the  advancing  history  of  our  race.  A  series  of  readings  of 
this  sort  would  be  a  fit  preparation  for  the  triumphs  of 
Christmas,  when  he,  the  long-desired,  was  at  last  given 
visible  to  man. 

We  shall  follow  a  few  of  these  early  appearances  of  the 
Saviour,  in  the  hope  that  some  pious  hearts  may  be  led  to 
see  those  traces  of  his  sacred  footsteps,  which  brighten  the 
rugged  ways  of  the  Old  Testament  history. 

In  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  Genesis  we  have  an  account 
of  a  long  interview  of  Abraham  with  a  being  in  human 
form,  whom  he  addresses  as  Jehovah,  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth.  We  hear  him  plead  with  him  in  words  like  these:  — 


4  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

"  Behold  now,  I  have  taken  on  me  to  speak  unto  Jehovah, 
which  am  but  dust  and  ashes  .  .  .  that  be  far  from  thee  to 
do  after  this  manner,  to  slay  the  righteous  with  the  wicked : 
and  that  the  righteous  should  be  as  the  wicked.  Shall  not  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  " 

What  a  divine  reticence  and  composure  it  was,  on  the 
part  of  our  Lord,  when  afterwards  he  came  to  earth  and 
the  scoffing  Jews  said  to  him,  "Thou  art  not  yet  fifty 
years  old,  and  hast  thou  seen  Abraham  ? "  He  did  not 
tell  them  how  their  father  Abraham  had  been  a  suppliant 
at  his  feet  ages  ago,  yet  he  must  have  thought  of  it  as 
they  thus  taunted  him. 

Again  we  read  in  Genesis  xxviii.,  when  Jacob  left  his 
father's  house  and  lay  down,  a  lonely  traveler,  in  the  fields 
with  a  stone  for  his  pillow,  the  pitying  Jesus  appeared  to 
him  :  — 

"  He  dreamed,  and  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and 
the  top  of  it  reached  unto  heaven ;  and  behold  the  angels  of 
God  ascending  and  descending  upon  it.  And  behold,  Jehovah 
stood  above  it,  and  said,  I  am  Jehovah,  God  of  Abraham,  thy 
father." 

As  afterwards  Jesus,  at  the  well  of  Samaria,  chose  to 
disclose  his  Messiahship  to  the  vain,  light-minded,  guilty 
Samaritan  woman,  and  call  her  to  be  a  messenger  of  his 
good  to  her  townsmen,  so  now  he  chose  Jacob  —  of  whom 
the  worst  we  know  is  that  he  had  yielded  to  an  unworthy 
plot  for  deceiving  his  father  —  he  chose  him  to  be  the 
father  of  a  powerful  nation.  Afterward  our  Lord  alludes 
to  this  vision  in  one  of  his  first  conversations  with  Nathan- 
iel, as  given  by  St.  John :  — 

"  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee 
under  the  fig-tree,  believest  thou  ?  thou  shalt  see  greater  things 
than  these.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  hereafter  ye  shall  see  hea- 
ven open  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon 
the  Son  of  man." 

This  same  divine  Patron  and  Presence  watches  over  the 


CHRIST  IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  5 

friendless  Jacob  until  he  becomes  rich  and  powerful,  the 
father  of  a  numerous  tribe.  He  is  returning  with  his 
whole  caravan  to  his  native  land.  But  the  consequence  of 
his  former  sin  meets  him  on  the  way.  Esau,  the  brother 
whom  he  deceived  and  overreached,  is  a  powerful  prince, 
and  comes  to  meet  him  with  a  band  of  men. 

Then  Jacob  was  afraid  and  distressed,  and  applies  at 
once  to  his  heavenly  Helper.  "I  am  not  worthy,"  he 
says,  "  of  all  the  mercy  and  all  the  truth  which  thou  hast 
shown  to  thy  servant,  for  with  my  staff  I  passed  over  this 
Jordan  and  now  I  am  become  two  bands.  Deliver  me,  I 
pray  thee,  from  the  hand  of  my  brother  Esau,  for  I  fear 
him,  lest  he  come  and  smite  me  and  the  mother  with  the 
children."  Such  things  were  common  in  those  days  — 
they  were  possible  and  too  probable  —  and  what  father 
would  not  pray  as  Jacob  prayed  1 

Then  follows  a  passage  of  singular  and  thrilling  charac- 
ter. A  mysterious  stranger  comes  to  him,  dimly  seen  in 
the  shadows  of  the  coming  dawn.  Is  it  that  human  Friend 
—  that  divine  Jehovah  1  Trembling  and  hoping  he  strives 
to  detain  him,  but  the  stranger  seeks  to  flee  from  him. 
Made  desperate  by  the  agony  of  fear  and  entreaty,  he 
throws  his  arms  around  him  and  seeks  to  hold  him.  The 
story  is  told  briefly  thus :  — 

"  And  Jacob  was  left  alone.  And  there  wrestled  A  MAN 
with  him  until  the  breaking  of  day.  And  when  he  saw  that 
he  prevailed  not  he  touched  the  hollow  of  his  thigh,  and  the 
hollow  of  Jacob's  thigh  was  out  of  joint  as  he  wrestled  with 
him.  And  the  man  said,  Let  me  go,  for  the  day  breaketh ;  and 
he  said,  I  will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  me.  And  he 
said,  What  is  thy  name  ?  and  he  said,  Jacob.  And  he  said,  Thy 
name  shall  be  called  no  more  Jacob,  but  Israel :  for  as  a  prince 
thou  hast  power  with  God  and  with  men,  and  hast  prevailed. 
And  Jacob  said,  I  beseech  thee  tell  me  thy  name.  And  he 
said,  Wherefore  is  it  that  thou  dost  ask  after  my  name  ?  And 
he  blessed  him  there." 


6  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

How  like  is  this  mysterious  stranger  to  the  One  in  the 
New  Testament  history  who  after  the  resurrection  joined 
the  two  sorrowful  disciples  on  the  way  to  Emmaus. 
There  is  the  same  mystery,  the  same  reserve  in  giving 
himself  fully  to  the  trembling  human  beings  who  clung  to 
him.  So  when  the  disciples  came  to  their  abode  "he 
made  as  though  he  would  go  farther, "  and  they  constrained 
him  and  he  went  in.  As  he  breaks  the  bread  they  know 
him,  and  immediately  he  vanishes  out  of  their  sight. 

In  his  dying  hour  (Gen.  xlviii.)  the  patriarch  Jacob, 
after  an  earthly  pilgrimage  of  a  hundred  and  forty-seven 
years,  recalls  these  blessed  visions  of  his  God :  — 

"  And  Jacob  said  to  Joseph,  God  Almighty  appeared  to  me 
at  Luz  in  the  land  of  Canaan  and  blessed  me." 

And  again,  blessing  the  children  of  Joseph,  he  says :  — 

"  God,  before  whom  my  fathers  Abraham  and  Isaac  did  walk, 
the  God  which  fed  me  all  my  life  long  unto  this  day,  the  Angel 
which  redeemed  me  from  all  evil,  bless  the  lads." 

But  it  was  not  merely  to  the  chosen  father  of  the  chosen 
nation  that  this  pitying  Friend  and  Saviour  appeared. 
When  the  poor,  passionate,  desperate  slave-girl  Hagar  was 
wandering  in  the  wilderness,  struggling  with  the  pride  and 
passion  of  her  unsubdued  nature,  he  who  follows  the  one 
wandering  sheep  appeared  and  spoke  to  her  (Gen.  xvi.). 
He  reproved  her  passionate  impatience;  he  counseled  sub- 
mission; he  promised  his  protection  and  care  to  the  son 
that  should  be  born  of  her  and  the  race  that  should  spring 
from  her.  Wild  and  turbulent  that  race  of  men  should 
be;  and  yet  there  was  to  be  a  Saviour,  a  Care-taker,  a 
Shepherd  for  them.  "And  she  called  the  name  of  the 
Lord  that  spake  unto  her,  Thou  God  seest  me;  for  she 
said,  Have  I  also  here  looked  after  him  that  seeth  me  ?  " 

Afterwards,  when  the  fiery,  indomitable  passions  of  the 
slave-woman  again  break  forth  and  threaten  the  peace  of 
the  home,  and  she  is  sent  forth  into  the  wilderness,  the 


CHRIST   IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  7 

Good  Shepherd  again  appears  to  her.      Thus  is  the  story 
told  (Gen.  xxi.):  — 

"  And  the  water  was  spent  in  the  bottle,  and  she  cast  the 
child  under  one  of  the  shrubs,  and  she  went  and  sat  down  a 
good  way  off,  for  she  said,  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the 
child.  And  God  heard  the  voice  of  the  lad,  and  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  called  to  Hagar  out  of  heaven,  saying,  What  aileth 
thee,  Hagar  ?  fear  not.  God  hath  heard  the  voice  of  the  lad 
where  he  is.  Arise,  lift  up  the  lad,  hold  him  in  thy  hand,  for 
I  will  make  of  him  a  great  nation.  And  God  opened  her  eyes, 
and  she  saw  a  well  of  water." 

Thus  did  he  declare  himself  the  Care-taker  and  Saviour 
not  of  the  Jews  merely,  but  of  the  Gentiles.  It  was  he 
who  afterwards  declared  that  he  was  the  living  bread 
which  came  down  from  heaven,  which  he  gave  for  the  life 

Of    the  WHOLE  WORLD. 

Afterwards,  in  the  history  of  Moses  in  the  wilderness  of 
Sinai,  we  read  of  a  divine  Being  who  talked  with  him  in 
a  visible  intimacy :  — 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  Moses  entered  into  the  tabernacle, 
the  cloudy  pillar  descended  and  stood  at  the  door  of  the  taber- 
nacle, and  Jehovah  talked  with  Moses.  And  all  the  people  saw 
the  cloudy  pillar  stand  at  the  tabernacle  door,  and  all  the  peo- 
ple rose  up  and  worshiped,  each  man  in  his  tent  door.  And 
Jehovah  spake  unto  Moses,  face  to  face,  as  a  man  speaketh  unto  his 
friend" 

Some  record  of  this  strange  conversation  is  given. 
Moses  was  a  man  of  wonderful  soul,  in  whom  was  the 
divine  yearning;  he  longed  to  know  more  and  more  of  his 
God,  and  at  last  beseeches  to  have  the  full  beatific  vision 
of  the  divine  nature  in  its  glory;  but  the  answer  is: 
"Thou  canst  not  see  my  face  [in  its  divine  glory],  for 
there  shall  no  man  see  me  and  live."  That  overpowering 
vision  was  not  for  flesh  and  blood;  it  would  dissolve  the 
frail  bonds  of  mortality  and  set  the  soul  free,  and  Moses 
must  yet  live,  and  labor,  and  suffer. 


8  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

What  an  affecting  light  this  interview  of  Moses  sheds 
on  that  scene  in  the  New  Testament,  where,  just  before 
his  crucifixion,  the  disciples  see  their  Master  in  the  glory 
of  the  heavenly  world,  and  with  him  Moses  and  Elijah, 
"who  spake  with  him  of  his  decease,  which  he  should 
accomplish  at  Jerusalem, "  —  Moses,  who  had  been  taught 
by  the  divine  Word  in  the  wilderness  how  to  organize  all 
that  system  of  forms  and  sacrifices  which  were  to  fore- 
shadow and  prepare  the  way  for  the  great  Sacrifice  —  the 
great  Revealer  of  God  to  man.  We  see  these  noble  souls, 
the  two  grandest  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament,  in  com- 
munion with  our  Lord  about  that  last  and  final  sacrifice 
which  was  to  fulfill  and  bring  to  an  end  all  others. 

A  little  later  on,  in  the  Old  Testament  history,  we 
come  to  a  time  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Judges  when  the 
chosen  people,  settled  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  sunk  in 
worldliness  and  sin,  have  forgotten  the  Lord  Jehovah,  and 
as  a  punishment  are  left  to  be  bitterly  oppressed  and 
harassed  by  the  savage  tribes  in  their  neighborhood.  The 
nation  was  in  danger  of  extinction.  The  stock  from  which 
was  to  come  prophets  and  apostles,  the  writers  of  the 
Bible  which  we  now  read,  from  which  was  to  come  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  was  in  danger  of  being  trampled  out 
under  the  heel  of  barbarous  heathen  tribes.  It  was  a 
crisis  needing  a  deliverer.  Physical  strength,  brute  force, 
was  the  law  of  the  day,  and  a  deliverer  was  to  be  given 
who  could  overcome  force  by  superior  force. 

Again  the  mysterious  stranger  appears;  we  have  the 
account  in  Judges  xiii. 

A  pious  old  couple  who  have  lived  childless  hitherto 
receive  an  angelic  visitor  who  announces  to  them  the  birth 
of  a  deliverer.  And  the  woman  came  and  told  her  hus- 
band, saying,  "A  man  of  God  came  unto  me,  and  his  coun- 
tenance was  like  the  countenance  of  an  angel  of  God,  very 
terrible;  but  I  asked  him  not  whence  he  was,  neither  told 


CHRIST   IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  9 

he  me  his  name."  This  man,  she  goes  on  to  say,  had 
promised  a  son  to  them  who  should  deliver  Israel  from  the 
hand  of  the  Philistines.  Manoah  then  prays  to  God  to 
grant  another  interview  with  the  heavenly  messenger. 

The  prayer  is  heard;  the  divine  Man  again  appears  to 
them  and  gives  directions  for  the  care  of  the  future  child, 
—  directions  requiring  the  most  perfect  temperance  and 
purity  on  the  part  of  both  mother  and  child.  The  rest  of 
the  story  is  better  given  in  the  quaint  and  beautiful  words 
of  the  Bible:  — 

"  And  Manoah  said  to  the  angel  of  Jehovah,  I  pray  thee  let 
us  detain  thee  till  we  shall  have  made  ready  a  kid  for  thee. 
And  the  angel  of  Jehovah  said  to  Manoah,  Though  thou  detain 
me  I  will  not  eat  of  thy  bread ;  and  if  thou  wilt  offer  a  burnt 
offering  thou  must  offer  it  unto  Jehovah.  For  Manoah  knew 
not  that  he  was  an  angel  of  Jehovah.  And  Manoah  said,  What 
is  thy  name  ?  that  when  thy  sayings  come  to  pass  we  may  do 
thee  honor.  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  said  unto  him,  Why 
askest  thou  my  name,  seeing  that  it  is  secret?  So  Manoah 
took  a  kid  with  a  meat  offering  and  offered  it  upon  a  rock  to 
the  Lord ;  and  the  angel  did  wonderously,  and  Manoah  and  his 
wife  looked  on.  For  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  flame  went  up 
to  heaven  from  off  the  altar,  that  the  angel  of  Jehovah  ascended 
in  the  flame  on  the  altar,  and  Manoah  and  his  wife  fell  on  their 
faces  on  the  ground.  And  Mauoah  said,  We  shall  surely  die, 
for  we  have  seen  God." 

This  tender,  guiding  Power,  this  long-suffering  and 
pitying  Saviour  of  Israel,  appears  to  us  in  frequent 
glimpses  through  the  writings  of  the  prophets. 

Isaiah  says,  "In  all  their  affliction  He  was  afflicted,  and 
the  Angel  of  his  Presence  saved  them;  in  his  love  and  his 
pity  he  redeemed  them,  and  he  bore  and  carried  them  all 
the  days  of  old." 

It  is  this  thought  that  gives  an  inexpressible  pathos  to 
the  rejection  of  Christ  by  the  Jews.  St.  John  begins  his 
gospel  by  speaking  of  this  divine  Word,  who  was  with 
God  in  the  beginning,  and  was  God;  that  he  was  in  the 


10  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

world,  and  the  world  was  made  by  him,  and  the  world 
knew  him  not.  He  came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own 
received  him  not. 

This  gives  an  awful,  pathetic  meaning  to  those  tears 
which  Christ  shed  over  Jerusalem,  and  to  that  last  yearn- 
ing farewell  to  the  doomed  city :  — 

"  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the  prophets  and 
stonest  them  that  are  sent  unto  thee  ;  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children  as  a  hen  doth  gather  her  brood  under  her 
wings,  and  ye  would  not." 

It  gives  significance  to  that  passage  of  Eevelation  where 
Christ  is  called  "the  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world." 

Not  alone  in  the  four  years  when  he  ministered  on  earth 
was  he  the  suffering  Redeemer;  he  was  always,  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  the  devoted  sacrifice:  bearing  on 
his  heart  the  sinning,  suffering,  wandering  race  of  man, 
afflicted  in  their  afflictions,  bearing  their  griefs  and  carry- 
ing their  sorrows,  the  friend  of  the  Jew  and  the  Gentile, 
the  seeker  for  the  outcast,  the  guide  of  the  wanderer,  the 
defender  of  the  helpless,  the  consoler  of  the  desolate,  the 
self-devoted  offering  to  and  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 

In  all  these  revelations  of  God,  one  idea  is  very  pre- 
cious. He  reveals  himself  not  as  a  fixed  Fate  —  a  mighty, 
crushing,  inexorable  Power  —  but  as  a  Being  relenting, 
tender,  yearning  towards  the  race  of  man  with  infinite 
tenderness.  He  suffers  himself  to  be  importuned;  he 
hides  himself  that  he  may  be  sought,  and,  although  he  is 
omnipotent,  though  with  one  touch  he  might  weaken  and 
paralyze  human  strength,  yet  he  suffers  human  arms  to 
detain  and  human  importunity  to  conquer  him,  and  he 
blesses  the  man  that  will  not  let  him  go  except  he  bless. 
On  this  scene  Charles  Wesley  has  written  his  beautiful 
hymn  beginning,  — 


CHRIST   IN   PROPHECY  11 

"  Come,  0  thou  Traveler  unknown." 

The  struggles,  the  sorrows,  and  aspirations  of  the  soul  for 
an  unknown  Saviour  have  never  been  more  beautifully 
told. 

II 

CHRIST    IN    PROPHECY 

IN  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  we  have  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world  an  advent  dawn  —  a  rose  sky  of 
Promise.  HE  is  COMING,  is  the  mysterious  voice  that 
sounds  everywhere,  in  history,  in  prophecy,  in  symbol, 
type,  and  shadow.  It  spreads  through  all  races  of  men; 
it  becomes  an  earnest  aspiration,  a  sigh,  a  moan  of  strug- 
gling humanity,  crying  out  for  its  Unknown  God. 

In  the  Garden  of  Eden  came  the  first  oracle,  which 
declared  that  the  SEED  of  the  woman  should  bruise  the 
serpent's  head.  This  was  an  intimation,  vague  yet  dis- 
tinct, that  there  should  come  a  Deliverer  who  should  break 
the  power  of  evil.  From  that  hour  every  mother  had 
hope,  and  child-bearing  was  invested  with  dignity  and 
blessing.  When  the  mother  of  all  brought  the  first  son 
into  the  world,  she'  fondly  hoped  that  she  had  brought 
forth  the  Deliverer,  and  said,  "I  have  gotten  the  MAN 
Jehovah. " 

Poor  mother!  destined  to  a  bitter  anguish  of  disappoint- 
ment !  Thousands  of  years  were  to  pass  away  before  the 
second  Eve  should  bring  forth  the  MAN  Jehovah. 

In  this  earliest  period  we  find  in  the  history  of  Job  the 
anguish,  the  perplexities,  the  despair  of  the  helpless 
human  creature,  crushed  and  bleeding  beneath  the  power 
of  an  unknown,  mighty  Being,  whose  ways  seem  cruel  and 
inexplicable,  but  with  whom  he  feels  that  expostulation  is 
impossible :  — 


12  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

"  Lo,  he  goeth  by  me  and  I  see  him  not ;  he  passeth  on  also 
and  I  perceive  him  not.  Behold,  he  taketh  away,  and  who  can 
hinder  him  ?  who  will  say  unto  him,  What  doest  thou  ?  If 
God  will  not  withdraw  his  anger,  the  proud  helpers  do  stoop 
under  him.  How  then  shall  I  answer  him  and  choose  out 
words  to  reason  with  him  ?  " 

Job  admits  that  he  desires  to  reason  with  God  to  ask 
some  account  of  his  ways.  He  says :  — 

"  My  soul  is  weary  of  my  life.  I  will  speak  in  the  bitterness 
of  my  soul.  I  will  say  unto  God,  Do  not  condemn  me ;  show 
me  why  thou  contendest  with  me.  Is  it  good  that  thou  should- 
est  oppress,  that  thou  shouldest  despise  the  work  of  thy 
hands  ?  " 

He  then  goes  through  with  all  the  perplexing  mysteries 
of  life.  He  sees  the  wicked  prosperous  and  successful, 
and  he  that  had  always  been  devoted  to  God  reduced  to 
the  extreme  of  human  misery ;  he  wrestles  with  the  prob- 
lem; he  longs  to  ask  an  explanation;  but  it  all  comes  to 
one  mournful  conclusion :  — 

"  He  is  not  a  man  as  I  am,  that  I  should  answer  him,  and  we 
should  come  together  in  judgment.  Neither  is  there  any  days- 
man [arbiter]  between  us,  that  might  lay  his  hand  on  both  of 
us.  Let  him  take  his  rod  away  and  let  not  his  fear  terrify  me. 
Then  would  I  speak ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  me." 

Here  we  have  in  a  word  the  deepest  want  of  humanity : 
a  daysman  between  the  infinite  God  and  finite  man;  a 
Mediator  who  should  lay  his  hand  on  both  of  them !  And 
then,  in  the  midst  of  these  yearnings  and  complainings, 
the  Spirit  of  God,  the  Heavenly  Comforter,  bearing  wit- 
ness with  Job's  spirit,  breaks  forth  in  the  prophetic 
song :  — 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth 

And  that  he  shall  stand  in  the  latter  days  upon  the  earth. 
And  though  worms  destroy  this  body, 
Yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God. 
I  shall  see  him  for  myself  and  not  another. 
My  reins  are  consumed  with  longing  for  that  day." 


CHRIST   IN   PROPHECY  13 

As  time  passes  we  have  the  history  of  one  man,  called 
from  all  the  races  of  men  to  be  the  ancestor  of  this  SEED. 
Abraham,  called  to  leave  his  native  land  and  go  forth 
sojourning  as  a  pilgrim  and  stranger  on  earth,  receives  a 
celestial  visito*  who  says:  "Abraham,  I  am  the  Almighty 
God.  Walk  before  me  and  be  thou  perfect."  He  exacts 
of  Abraham  the  extremes  of  devotion  —  not  only  to  leave 
his  country,  kindred,  friends,  and  be  a  sojourner  in  a 
strange  land,  but  to  sacrifice  the  only  son  of  his  heart. 
And  Abraham  meets  the  test  without  a  wavering  thought; 
his  trust  in  God  is  absolute :  and  in  return  he  receives  the 
promise,  "In  THY  SEED  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
be  blessed."  How  Abraham  looked  upon  this  promise  we 
are  told  by  our  Lord  himself.  The  Jews  asked  him, 
"  Art  thou  greater  than  our  father  Abraham  ? "  And  he 
answered,  "Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day 
—  he  saw  it,  and  was  glad." 

The  same  promise  was  repeated  to  Jacob  in  the  self- 
same words,  when  he  lay  sleeping  in  the  field  of  Luz  and 
saw  the  heavenly  vision  of  the  Son  of  man. 

From  the  time  of  the  first  announcement  to  Abraham 
his  descendants  became  the  recipients  of  a  special  divine 
training,  in  which  every  event  of  their  history  had  a  fore- 
looking  to  this  great  consummation.  They  were  taken  into 
Egypt,  and,  after  long  suffering,  delivered  from  a  deadly 
oppression.  In  the  solemn  hour  of  their  deliverance  the 
blood  of  a  spotless  lamb  —  "a  lamb  without  blemish "  — 
was  to  mark  the  door-posts  of  each  dwelling  with  a  sign 
of  redemption.  "Not  a  bone  of  him  shall  be  broken," 
said  the  ancient  command,  referring  to  this  typical  sacri- 
fice; and  when  in  a  later  day  the  Apostle  John  stood  by 
the  cross  of  Jesus  and  saw  them  break  the  limbs  of  the 
other  two  victims  and  leave  Jesus  untouched,  he  said, 
"that  it  might  be  fulfilled  which  was  commanded,  not  a 
bone  of  Him  shall  be  broken." 


14  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

The  yearly  festival  which  commemorated  this  deliverance 
was  a  yearly  prophecy  in  every  Jewish  family  of  the  sin- 
less Redeemer  whose  blood  should  be  their  salvation.  A 
solemn  ritual  was  instituted,  every  part  of  which  was  pro- 
phetic and  symbolic.  A  high  priest  chosen  from  among 
his  brethren,  who  could  be  touched  with  the  feelings  of 
their  infirmities,  was  the  only  one  allowed  to  enter  that 
mysterious  Holy  of  Holies  where  were  the  mercy-seat  and 
the  cherubim,  the  throne  of  the  Invisible  God.  There, 
for  the  most  part,  unbroken  stillness  and  solitude  reigned. 
Only  on  one  memorable  day  of  the  year,  while  all  the 
congregation  of  Israel  lay  prostrate  in  penitence  without, 
this  high  priest  entered  for  them  with  the  blood  of  atone- 
ment into  the  innermost  presence  of  the  King  Invisible. 
Purified,  arrayed  in  spotless  garments,  and  bearing  on  his 
breast  —  graven  on  precious  gems  —  the  names  of  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  he  entered  there,  a  yearly  symbol  and 
prophecy  of  the  greater  High  Priest,  who  should  "not  by 
the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  but  by  his  own  blood, 
enter  at  once  into  the  holy  place,  having  obtained  eternal 
redemption  for  us." 

Thus,  by  a  series  of  symbols  and  ceremonies  which  filled 
the  entire  life  of  the  Jew,  the  whole  national  mind  was 
turned  in  an  attitude  of  expectancy  towards  the  future 
Messiah.  In  the  more  elevated  and  spiritual  natures  — 
the  poets  and  the  prophets  —  this  was  continually  bursting 
forth  into  distinct  predictions.  Moses  says,  in  his  last 
message  to  Israel,  "A  prophet  shall  the  Lord  your  God 
raise  up  unto  you  from  the  midst  of  your  brethren  like 
unto  me;  unto  Him  shall  ye  hearken."  Our  Lord  referred 
to  this  prophecy  when  he  said  to  the  unbelieving  Jews, 
"Had  ye  believed  Moses  ye  would  have  believed  me,  for 
he  wrote  of  me." 

The  promise  made  at  first  to  Abraham  was  afterwards 
repeated  not  only  to  Jacob,  but  long  centuries  afterward  to 


CHRIST  IN   PKOPHECY  15 

his  descendant,  David,  in  a  solemn,  prophetic  message, 
relating  first  to  the  reign  of  Solomon,  but  ending  with 
these  words :+'  And  thy  house  and  thy  kingdom  shall  be 
established  forever  before  thee.  Thy  throne  shall  be 
established  forever."  That  David  understood  these  words 
as  a  promise  that  the  Redeemer  should  be  of  his  seed  is 
evident  from  the  declaration  of  St.  Peter  in  Acts  ii.  30, 
where  he  says  that  "David  being  a  prophet,  and  knowing 
that  God  had  sworn  with  an  oath  to  him  that  of  the  fruit 
of  his  loins  he  would  raise  up  Messiah  to  sit  on  his  throne, 
spake  thus  concerning  him." 

The  Psalms  of  David  are  full  of  heaving,  many-colored 
clouds  and  mists  of  poetry,  out  of  which  shine  here  and 
there  glimpses  of  the  mystic  future.  In  the  second  Psalm 
we  have  a  majestic  drama.  The  heathen  are  raging 
against  Jehovah  and  his  anointed  Son.  They  say,  Let  us 
break  their  bands  in  sunder  and  cast  away  their  cords. 
Then  the  voice  of  Jehovah  is  heard  in  the  tumult,  saying 
calmly,  "Yet  have  I  set  my  king  on  my  holy  hill  of 
Zion. "  Then  an  angelic  herald  proclaims :  — 

"  I  will  declare  the  decree. 
The  Lord  hath  spoken  : 
Thou  art  my  Son ; 
This  day  have  I  begotten  thee  i 

Ask  of  me  and  I  will  give  the  heathen  for  thine  inheritance, 
And  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  thy  possession." 

This  mighty  king,  this  glorious  defender,  is  celebrated 
as  the  All-Loving  One.  His  reign  is  to  be  a  reign  of 
truth  and  love.  All  the  dearest  forms  of  human  affection 
are  used  to  shadow  forth  what  he  will  be  to  his  people. 
He  is  to  be  the  royal  bridegroom;  his  willing  people  the 
bride.  So,  in  the  forty-fifth  Psalm,  entitled  "A  Song  of 
Love, "  we  have  the  image  of  a  mighty  conqueror  —  radi- 
ant, beloved,  adored,  a  being  addressed  both  as  God  and 
the  Son  of  God,  who  goes  forth  to  victory :  — 


16  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

"  Thou  art  fairer  than  the  children  of  men. 
Grace  is  poured  into  thy  lips. 
Therefore  God  hath  blessed  thee  forever. 
Gird  thy  sword  on  thy  thigh,  O  most  mighty,  with  thy  glory 

and  majesty. 
And  in  thy  majesty  ride  prosperously  because  of  thy  truth 

and  meekness  and  righteousness. 
Thy  right  hand  shall  teach  thee  terrible  things. 
Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever. 
A  sceptre  of  righteousness  is  the  sceptre  of  thy  kingdom. 
Thou  lovest  righteousness  and  hatest  iniquity. 
Therefore  God  —  thy  God  —  hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil 

of  gladness  above  thy  fellows." 

Then  follows  a  description  of  the  royal  bride,  the  king's 
daughter,  who  is  all  glorious  within  —  her  clothing  of 
wrought  gold  —  who  with  gladness  and  rejoicing  shall  be 
brought  to  the  king  to  become  mother  of  princes. 

It  is  said  by  some  that  this  is  a  marriage  hymn  for  the 
wedding  of  a  prince.  It  may  have  been  so  originated; 
but  in  the  mind  of  the  devout  Jew  every  scene  and  event 
in  life  had  become  significant  and  symbolical  of  this  greater 
future.  Every  deliverer  suggested  the  greater  Deliverer; 
the  joy  of  every  marriage  suggested  the  joy  of  that  divine 
marriage  with  a  heavenly  bridegroom. 

So  the  seventy-second  Psalm,  written  originally  for  Solo- 
mon, expands  into  language  beyond  all  that  can  be  said  of 
any  earthly  monarch.  It  was  the  last  poem  of  David,  and 
the  feelings  of  the  king  and  father  rose  and  melted  into  a 
great  tide  of  imagery  that  belonged  to  nothing  earthly  : — 

"  Yea,  all  kings  shall  fall  down  before  him ; 
All  nations  shall  serve  him. 
He  shall  deliver  the  needy  when  he  crieth ; 
The  poor  also,  and  him  that  hath  no  helper. 
He  shall  spare  the  poor  and  needy,  and  shall  save  the  souls 

of  the  needy. 

He  shall  redeem  their  soul  from  deceit  and  violence, 
And  precious  shall  their  blood  be  in  his  sight. 


*         CHRIST   IN   PROPHECY  17 

And  he  shall  live,  and  to  him  shall  be  given  the  gold  of 

Sheba. 
Prayer  also  shall  be  made  for  him  continually,  and  daily  shall 

he  be  praised. 

His  name  shall  endure  forever. 
His  name  shall  be  continued  as  long  as  the  sun. 
Men  shall  be  blessed  in  him. 
All  nations  shall  call  him  blessed." 

But  in  these  same  Psalms  there  are  glimpses  of  a  divine 
sufferer.  In  the  twenty-second  Psalm  David  speaks  of  suf- 
ferings which  certainly  never  happened  to  himself  —  which 
were  remarkably  fulfilled  in  the  last  agonies  of  Jesus :  — 

"  All  they  that  see  me  laugh  me  to  scorn. 
They  shoot  out  the  lip,  they  shake  the  head,  saying, 
He  trusted  in  God  that  he  would  deliver  him. 
Let  him  deliver  him,  seeing  he  delighted  in  him. 
I  am  poured  out  like  water ;  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint. 
My  heart  is  like  wax  —  it  is  melted  in  my  bosom. 
My  strength  is  dried  up  like  a  potsherd. 
My  tongue  cleaveth  to  my  mouth. 
Thou  hast  brought  me  into  the  dust  of  death. 
For  dogs  have  compassed  me, 
The  assembly  of  the  wicked  have  inclosed  me ; 
They  pierced  my  hands  and  my  feet. 
I  may  tell  all  my  bones.     They  look  and  stare  on  me. 
They  part  my  garments  among  them 
And  cast  lots  for  my  vesture." 

In  this  Psalm,  written  more  than  a  thousand  years  before 
he  came  into  the  world,  our  Lord  beheld  ever  before  him 
the  scenes  of  his  own  crucifixion;  he  could  see  the  heart- 
less stare  of  idle,  malignant  curiosity  around  his  cross;  he 
could  hear  the  very  words  of  the  taunts  and  revilings,  and 
a  part  of  the  language  of  this  Psalm  was  among  his  last 
utterances.  While  the  shadows  of  the  great  darkness  were 
gathering  around  his  cross  he  cried,  "My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? "  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
words  so  bitterly  fulfilled  passed  through  his  mind,  as  one 


18  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

by  one  the  agonies  and  indignities  followed  each  other,  till 
at  last  he  bowed  his  head  and  said,  "It  is  finished." 

As  time  rolled  on,  this  mingled  chant  of  triumph  and  of 
suffering  swelled  clearer  and  plainer.  In  the  grand  soul 
of  Isaiah,  the  Messiah  and  his  kingdom  were  ever  the 
outcome  of  every  event  that  suggested  itself.  When  the 
kingdom  of  Judah  was  threatened  by  foreign  invasion,  the 
prophet  breaks  out  with  the  promise  of  a  Deliverer :  — 

"  Behold,  the  Lord  himself  shall  give  you  a  sign.  Behold,  a 
virgin  shall  conceive  and  bring  forth  a  son  and  shall  call  his 
name  Immanuel  [God  with  us]." 

Again  he  bursts  forth  as  if  he  beheld  the  triumph  as  a 
present  reality :  — 

"  Unto  us  a  child  is  born 
Unto  us  a  son  is  given. 

The  government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulders. 
His  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor, 
Mighty  God, 

Everlasting  Father,  Prince  of  Peace. 
Of  the  increase  of  his  government  and  of  peace  there  shall  be 

no  end, 

Upon  the  throne  of  David  and  his  kingdom, 
To  establish  it  with  justice  from  henceforth  and  forever. 
The  zeal  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  will  perform  this." 

Again,  a  few  chapters  further  on,  he  sings :  — 

"  There  shall  come  forth  a  rod  out  of  the  stem  of  Jesse 
A  Branch  shall  grow  out  of  his  roots. 
The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  shall  rest  upon  him  ; 
The  spirit  of  wisdom  and  understanding, 
The  spirit  of  counsel  and  might, 

The  spirit  of  knowledge,  and  fear  of  the  Lord. 
With  righteousness  shall  he  judge  the  poor, 
And  reprove  with  equity  for  the  meek  of  the  earth." 

Then  follow  vivid  pictures  of  a  golden  age   on   earth, 
beneath  his  sway,  when  all  enmities  and  ferocities  even  of 


CHRIST   IN   PROPHECY  19 

the  inferior  animals  shall  cease,  and  universal  love  and  joy 
pervade  the  earth. 

In  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah  we  have  again  the  sable 
thread  of  humiliation  and  sorrow;  the  Messiah  is  to  be 
"despised  and  rejected  of  men;"  his  nation  "hide  their 
faces  from  him;"  he  "bears  their  griefs,  and  carries  their 
sorrows,"  is  "wounded  for  their  transgressions,"  is  "  brought 
as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,"  is  "dumb  before  his  accusers," 
is  "taken  from  prison  to  judgment,"  is  "cut  off  out  of  the 
land  of  the  living,"  "makes  his  grave  with  the  wicked  and 
with  the  rich  in  his  death,"  and  thence  is  "raised  again  to 
an  endless  kingdom." 

Thus  far  the  tide  of  prophecy  had  rolled;  thus  distinct 
and  luminous  had  grown  the  conception  of  a  future  suffer- 
ing, victorious  Lord  and  leader,  when  the  Jewish  nation, 
for  its  sins  and  unfaithfulness,  was  suffered  to  go  to  wreck. 
The  temple  was  destroyed  and  the  nation  swept  into  cap- 
tivity in  a  foreign  land. 

But  they  carried  everywhere  with  them  the  vision  of 
their  future  Messiah.  In  their  captivity  and  sufferings 
their  religious  feelings  became  intense,  and,  wherever  they 
were,  the  Jews  were  always  powerful  and  influential  men. 
Daniel,  by  his  divine  skill  in  spiritual  insight,  became  the 
chief  of  the  Chaldean  magi,  and  his  teachings  with  regard 
to  the  future  Messiah  may  be  traced  in  those  passages  of 
the  Zendavesta  which  predict  his  coming,  his  universal 
dominion,  and  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  Everywhere 
through  all  nations  this  scattered  seed  of  the  Jews  touched 
the  spark  of  desire  and  aspiration  —  the  longing  for  a 
future  Redeemer. 

In  the  prophecies  of  Daniel  we  find  the  predictions  of 
the  Messiah  assuming  the  clearness  of  forewritten  history. 
The  successive  empires  of  the  world  are  imaged  under  the 
symbol  of  a  human  body,  with  a  head  of  gold,  a  breast  of 
silver,  body  and  thighs  of  brass,  legs  and  feet  of  iron. 


20  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

By  these  types  were  indicated  the  Babylonian,  Medo-Per- 
sian,  Greek  and  Roman  nations,  with  their  successive  rule. 
In  prophetic  vision,  also,  a  stone  was  without  hands  cut 
out  of  the  mountains,  and  it  smote  the  feet  of  the  image, 
so  that  the  whole  of  it  passed  away  like  the  chaff  of  the 
threshing-floor. 

How  striking  this  description  of  that  invisible,  spiritual 
force  which  struck  the  world  in  the  time  of  the  Roman 
empire,  and  before  which  all  the  ancient  dynasties  have 
vanished ! 

In  the  ninth  chapter  of  Daniel,  verses  25,  26,  27,  we 
find  given  the  exact  time  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  of 
his  death,  of  the  subsequent  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by 
the  Romans,  and  the  cessation  of  the  Jewish  worship  and 
sacrifices.  Remembering  that  Daniel  was  the  head  of  the 
Chaldean  magi,  we  see  how  it  is  that  their  descendants  were 
able  to  calculate  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Christ  and  come 
to  worship  him.1 

At  length  the  Jews  were  recalled  from  captivity  and  the 
temple  rebuilt.  While  it  was  rebuilding  prophets  encour- 
aged the  work  with  prophecies  of  the  LORD  who  should 
appear  in  it.  The  prophet  Haggai  (ii.  3-9)  thus  speaks  to 
those  who  depreciate  the  new  temple  by  comparing  it  with 
the  old:  — 

"Who  is  left  among  you  that  saw  this  house  in  her  first 
glory  ?  Yet  now  be  strong,  all  ye  people  of  the  land,  and 
work,  for  I  am  with  you,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  For  thus 

1  M.  Lenormant  says  in  The  Magic  of  Ike  Chaldees:  "The  more  one 
advances  in  the  understanding  of  the  cuneiform  text,  the  more  one  sees 
the  necessity  of  revising  the  condemnation  too  prematurely  uttered 
against  the  Book  of  Daniel  by  the  German  Exegetical  School.  Without 
doubt,  the  use  of  certain  Greek  words  serves  to  show  that  it  has  passed 
through  the  hands  of  some  editor  since  the  time  of  Alexander.  But  the 
substance  of  it  is  much  more  ancient  —  is  imprinted  with  a  perfectly  dis- 
tinct Babylonian  tinge,  and  the  picture  of  life  in  the  court  of  Nabucho- 
donosor  and  his  successors  has  an  equal  truthfulness  which  could  not  have 
been  attained  at  a  later  period." 


CHKIST  IN   PROPHECY  21 

saith  the  Lord :  Yet  a  little  while  and  I  will  shake  the  heavens 
and  earth,  the  sea  and  the  dry  land,  and  the  Desire  of  all  na- 
tions shall  come,  and  I  will  fill  this  house  with  glory,  saith  the 
Lord.  The  glory  of  this  latter  house  shall  be  greater  than  of 
the  former,  for  in  this  house  will  I  give  peace,  saith  the  Lord 
of  Hosts." 

The  prophecies  of  Zechariah,  which  belonged  to  the  same 
period  and  had  the  same  object,  —  to  encourage  the  rebuild- 
ing of  the  second  temple,  —  are  full  of  anticipation  of  the 
coming  Messiah.  The  prophet  breaks  forth  into  song  like 
a  bird  of  the  morning :  — 

"  Rejoice  greatly,  O  daughter  of  Zion ; 
Shout,  O  daughter  of  Jerusalem  : 
Behold,  thy  king  cometh  unto  thee. 
He  is  just  and  hath  salvation  ; 
He  is  lowly,  riding  upon  an  ass  — 
Upon  a  colt,  the  foal  of  an  ass." 

Again  he  breaks  forth  in  another  strain :  — 

"  Awake,  O  sword,  against  my  Shepherd, 
Against  the  man  that  is  my  fellow,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
Smite  the  Shepherd, 
And  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered." 

We  remember  that  these  words  were  quoted  by  our 
Lord  to  his  disciples  the  night  before  his  execution,  when 
he  was  going  forth  to  meet  his  murderers.  A  hundred  or 
so  of  years  later,  the  prophet  Malachi  says :  — 

"  Behold,  I  send  my  messenger. 
He  shall  prepare  the  way  before  me. 

The  Lord  whom  ye  seek  shall  suddenly  come  to  his  temple  : 
Even  the  messenger  of  the  covenant,  in  whom  ye  delight  j 
But  who  may  abide  the  day  of  his  coming  ? 
Who  shall  stand  when  He  appeareth  ? 
For,  like  a  refiner's  fire  shall  He  be, 
And  like  fullers'  soap. 

He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  silver. 
He  shall  purify  the  sons  of  Levi." 


22  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

How  remarkably  this  prophecy  describes  the  fiery  vehe- 
mence and  energy  of  our  Lord's  first  visit  to  the  temple, 
when  he  drove  out  the  money-changers  and  completely 
cleansed  the  holy  place  of  unseemly  traffic ! 

With  this  prophet  the  voice  of  prediction  ceases.  Let 
us  for  a  moment  look  back  and  trace  its  course.  First,  the 
vague  promise  of  a  Deliverer,  born  of  a  woman;  then,  a 
designation  of  the  race  from  which  he  is  to  be  born;  then 
of  the  tribe;  then  of  the  family;  then  the  very  place  of 
his  birth  is  predicted  —  Bethlehem-Ephratah  being  men- 
tioned to  discriminate  it  from  another  Bethlehem.  Then 
come  a  succession  of  pictures  of  a  Being  concerning  whom 
the  most  opposite  things  are  predicted.  He  is  to  be  hon- 
ored, adored,  beloved;  he  is  to  be  despised  and  rejected 
—  his  nation  hide  their  faces  from  him.  He  is  to  be 
terrible  and  severe  as  a  refiner's  fire;  he  is  to  be  so  gentle 
that  a  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  smoking  flax 
shall  he  not  quench.  He  is  to  be  seized  and  carried  from 
prison  to  judgment;  he  is  surrounded  by  the  wicked;  his 
hands  and  feet  are  pierced,  his  garments  divided;  they 
cast  lots  for  his  vesture;  he  is  united  by  his  death  both 
with  the  wicked  and  with  the  rich;  he  is  cut  off  from  the 
land  of  the  living.  He  is  cut  off,  but  not  for  himself;  his 
kingdom  is  to  be  an  everlasting  kingdom;  he  is  to  have 
dominion  from  sea  to  sea,  and  of  the  increase  of  his  gov- 
ernment and  of  peace  there  is  to  be  no  end. 

How  strange  that  for  ages  these  conflicting  and  appar- 
ently contradictory  oracles  had  been  accumulating,  until 
finally  came  One  who  fulfilled  them  all.  Is  not  this 
indeed  the  Christ  —  the  Son  of  God  ? 


THE  CRADLE  OF  BETHLEHEM          23 

III 

THE    CRADLE    OF    BETHLEHEM 

WE  should  have  supposed  that  when  the  time  came  for 
the  entrance  of  the  great  Hero  upon  the  stage  of  this 
world,  magnificent  preparations  would  be  made  to  receive 
him.  A  nation  had  been  called  and  separated  from  all 
tribes  of  earth  that  he  might  be  born  of  them,  and  it  had 
been  their  one  special  mission  to  prepare  for  the  coming  of 
this  One,  their  Head  and  King,  in  whom  the  whole  of 
their  organization  —  laws,  teachings,  and  prophecies  —  was 
to  be  fulfilled.  Christ  was  the  end  for  which  the  taber- 
nacle was  erected  and  the  temple  built,  for  whom  were 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  altars,  and  the  sacrifices.  He  was 
the  Coming  One  for  whom  priests  and  prophets  had  been 
for  hundreds  of  years  looking. 

What  should  we  have  expected  of  divine  wisdom  when 
the  glorious  hour  approached?  We  should  have  thought 
that  the  news  would  be  sent  to  the  leaders  of  the  great 
national  council  of  the  Sanhedrim,  to  the  High  Priest  and 
elders,  that  their  Prince  was  at  hand.  Doubtless  we 
should  suppose  that  the  nation,  apprised  of  his  coming, 
would  have  made  ready  his  palace  and  have  been  watching 
at  its  door  to  do  honor  to  their  newborn  King. 

Far  otherwise  is  the  story  as  we  have  it. 

In  the  poorest,  most  sordid,  most  despised  village  of 
Judaea  dwelt,  unknown  and  neglected,  two  members  of  the 
decayed  and  dethroned  royal  family  of  Judaea,  —  Joseph 
the  carpenter  and  Mary  his  betrothed.  Though  every 
circumstance  of  the  story  shows  the  poverty  of  these  indi- 
viduals, yet  they  were  not  peasants.  They  were  of  royal 
lineage,  reduced  to  the  poverty  and  the  simple  life  of  the 
peasants.  The  Jews,  intensely  national,  cherished  the 


24  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

tradition  of  David  their  Avarrior  and  poet  prince ;  they  sang 
his  Psalms,  they  dwelt  on  his  memory,  and  those  persons, 
however  poor  and  obscure,  who  knew  that  they  had  his 
blood  in  their  veins  were  not  likely  to  forget  it. 

There  have  been  times  in  the  history  of  Europe  when 
royal  princes,  the  heirs  of  thrones,  have  sojourned  in 
poverty  and  obscurity,  earning  their  bread  by  the  labor  of 
their  hands.  But  the  consciousness  of  royal  blood  and 
noble  birth  gave  to  them  a  secret  largeness  of  view  and 
nobility  of  feeling  which  distinguished  them  from  common 
citizens. 

The  Song  of  Mary  given  in  St.  Luke  shows  the  tone  of 
her  mind;  shows  her  a  woman  steeped  in  the  prophetic 
spirit  and  traditions,  in  the  Psalms  of  her  great  ancestor, 
and  herself  possessing  a  lofty  poetic  nature. 

We  have  the  story  of  the  birth  of  Christ  in  only  two  of 
the  Evangelists.  In  Matthew  we  have  all  the  facts  and 
incidents  such  as  must  have  been  derived  from  Joseph,  and 
in  Luke  we  have  those  which  could  only  have  been  told 
by  Mary.  She  it  is  who  must  have  related  to  St.  Luke 
the  visit  of  the  angel  and  his  salutation  to  her.  She  it  is 
who  tells  of  the  state  of  her  mind  when  those  solemn  mys- 
terious words  first  fell  upon  her  ear :  — 

"  Hail  thou,  highly  favored !  The  Lord  is  with  thee  :  Blessed 
art  thou  among  women !  " 

It  is  added,  — 

"  And  when  she  saw  him  she  was  troubled  and  cast  about  in 
her  mind  what  manner  of  salutation  this  should  be." 

Only  Mary  could  have  told  the  interior  state  of  her 
mind,  the  doubts,  the  troubles,  the  mental  inquiries, 
known  only  to  herself.  The  rest  of  the  interview,  the 
magnificent  and  solemn  words  of  the  angel,  in  the  nature 
of  things  could  have  come  to  the  historian  only  through 
Mary's  narrative. 


THE   CRADLE   OF   BETHLEHEM  25 

"  Thou  shalt  conceive  and  bring  forth  a  Son  and  shalt  call  his 
name  Jesus.  He  shall  be  great,  and  shall  be  called  the  Son  of 
the  Highest,  and  the  Lord  God  shall  give  unto  him  the  throne 
of  his  father  David,  and  he  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob 
forever,  and  of  his  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end." 

In  St.  Matthew  we  have  the  history  of  the  hesitation  of 
Joseph,  his  manly  delicacy  and  tenderness  for  his  betrothed 
wife,  and  the  divine  message  to  him  in  a  dream;  all  of 
which  are  things  that  could  have  been  known  only  through 
his  own  narration. 

We  find  also  in  this  history,  whose  facts  must  have 
come  from  Joseph,  a  table  of  genealogy  tracing  his  descent 
back  to  David,  while  in  the  account  given  by  Mary  in  St. 
Luke  there  is  another  and  different  table  of  genealogy. 
The  probable  inference  on  the  face  of  it  would  be  that  the 
one  is  the  genealogy  of  Joseph  and  the  other  of  Mary; 
and  it  confirms  this  supposition  to  find  that  she  was  spoken 
of  in  Rabbinic  writings  of  an  early  period  as  the  daughter 
of  Heli,1  who  concludes  the  genealogy  given  in  Luke,  and 
on  this  supposition  would  be  the  father  of  Mary  and  grand- 
father of  Jesus.  Moreover,  as  the  angel  himself  in  an- 
nouncing the  birth  of  Christ  laid  special  stress  upon  the 
fact  that  his  mother  was  of  the  house  of  David,  it  is  quite 
probable  that  the  genealogy  which  proved  that  descent  was 
very  precious  in  Mary's  eyes,  and  that  this  is  therefore 
imbedded  in  the  account  which  St.  Luke  derives  from  her, 
as  the  very  chief  treasure  of  her  life.  That  genealogical 
record  was  probably  the  one  hoarded  gem  of  her  poverty 
and  neglect  —  like  a  crown  jewel  concealed  in  the  humble 
cottage  of  an  exiled  queen. 

When  the  conviction  was  brought  home  to  both  these 

1  Lightfoot,  in  his  notes  on  Luke  iii.,  maintains  this  theory,  and  quotes 
in  support  of  it  three  passages  from  the  Jerusalem  Talmud,  folio  77,  4, 
where  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus  is  denounced  as  the  daughter  of  Heli, 
and  mother  of  a  pretender.  The  same  view  is  sustained  by  Paulus,  Span- 
heim,  and  Lange. 


26  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

hidden  souls  that  their  house  was  to  be  the  recipient  of 
this  greatest  of  all  honors,  we  can  easily  see  how  it  must 
have  been  a  treasury  of  secret  and  wonderful  emotions  and 
contemplations  between  them.  A  world  of  lofty  thought 
and  feeling  from  that  hour  belonged  to  those  two  of  all  the 
world,  separating  them  far  as  heaven  is  above  the  earth 
from  the  sordid  neighborhood  of  Nazareth.  Every  tie 
which  connected  them  with  the  royal  house  of  David  must 
have  been  wakened  to  intense  vitality.  All  the  prophe- 
cies with  regard  to  the  future  Messiah  must  have  blazed 
with  a  new  radiance  in  the  firmament  of  their  thoughts. 
The  decree  from  Caesar  that  all  the  world  should 'be  taxed, 
and  the  consequent  movement  towards  a  census  of  the 
Jewish  nation,  must  have  seemed  to  them  a  divine  call 
and  intimation  to  leave  the  village  of  Nazareth  and  go  to 
their  ancestral  town,  where  ^prophecy  had  told  them  that 
the  Messiah  was  to  be  born :  — 

"  And  thou  Bethlehem-Ephratah,  though  thou  be  little  among 
the  thousands  of  Judah,  yet  out  of  thee  shall  come  a  Governor 
which  shall  rule  my  people  Israel,  whose  "goings  forth  have  been 
from  of  old,  from  everlasting." 

On'  this  magnificent  mystery  were  these  two  poor, 
obscure,  simple  people  pondering  in  their  hearts  as  they 
took  their  journey  over  the  picturesque  hill-country 
towards  the  beautiful  little  town  of  Bethlehem,  the  village 
of  their  fathers;  Bethlehem,  the  city  of  the  loving  Ruth, 
and  her  descendant,  the  chivalrous  poet  king,  David. 

It  seems  they  went  there  poor  and  without  acquaintance, 
casting  themselves  in  simple  faith  on  the  protection  of 
God.  The  caravanserai  of  those  days  bore  more  resem- 
blance to  camping-huts  than  anything  suggested  by  our 
modern  inn.  There  was  a  raised  platform  which  gave  to 
the  traveler  simply  space  to  spread  his  bed  and  lie  down, 
while  below  this  was  the  portion  allotted  to  the  feeding 
and  accommodation  of  the  animals. 


THE   CRADLE   OF   BETHLEHEM  27 

When  these  two  guests  arrived  the  space  allotted  to 
travelers  was  all  taken  up,  and  a  shelter  had  to  be  arranged 
in  the  part  allotted  to  the  animals.  We  are  so  accustomed 
to  look  at  that  cradle  in  Bethlehem  through  the  mists  of 
reverential  tradition  that  we  have  ceased  to  realize  what 
a  trial  and  humiliation  it  was  to  these  children  of  a  royal 
race  to  find  themselves  outcasts  and  homeless  in  the  city 
of  their  fathers  —  in  the  very  hour  when  home  and  its 
comfort  were  most  needed.  We  must  remember  they  had 
to  live  by  faith  as  well  as  we.  Though  an  angel  had 
announced  this  coming  child  as  the  King  of  Israel,  still 
their  faith  must  have  been  severely  tried  to  find  them- 
selves, as  the  hour  of  his  birth  approached,  unwelcomed, 
forlorn,  and  rejected  by  men,  in  the  very  city  of  David. 

The  census  in  which  they  came  to  have  their  names 
enrolled  was  the  last  step  in  the  humiliation  of  their 
nation;  it  was  the  preparation  for  their  subjugation  and 
taxation  as  a  conquered  tribe  under  the  Roman  yoke:  and 
they,  children  of  the  royal  house  of  David,  were  left  to 
touch  the  very  lowest  descent  of  humiliation,  outcasts 
from  among  men,  glad  to  find  a  resting-place  with  the 
beasts  of  the  stall. 

Christ  is  called  the  Morning  Star,  and  truly  he  rose  in 
the  very  darkest  hour  of  the  night.  The  Friend  of  the 
outcast,  the  Care-taker  of  the  neglected,  the  poor  man's 
Helper,  must  needs  be  born  thus. 

But  was  there  no  message  ?  Yes.  In  those  very  hills 
and  valleys  of  Bethlehem  where  David  kept  his  father's 
sheep  were  still  shepherds  abiding.  The  Psalms  of  David 
were  there  the  familiar  melodies ;  they  lived  by  the  valley 
and  hill,  as  when  he  sang  of  old, — 

"  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd ; 
I  shall  not  want. 

He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures ; 
He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters." 


28  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

These  shepherds  probably  were  poor  men  of  a  devout 
and  simple  faith,  men  who  longed  and  prayed  and  waited 
for  the  consolation  of  Israel.  Their  daily  toil  was  ennobled 
by  religious  associations.  Jehovah  himself  was  addressed 
as  the 

"  Shepherd  of  Israel ; 
He  that  leadeth  Joseph  like  a  flock  ; 
He  that  dwelleth  between  the  cherubims." 

It  was  to  such  souls  as  these,  patient,  laborious,  prayer- 
ful, that  the  message  came;  that  the  Good  Shepherd  — 
the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  Souls  —  was  born.  No  com- 
ment can  brighten  or  increase  the  solemn  beauty  of  those 
simple  words  in  which  this  story  is  told :  — 

"  And  there  were  in  the  same  country  shepherds  abiding  in 
the  field,  keeping  watch  over  their  flock  by  night.  And,  lo, 
the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  shone  round  about  them  ;  and  they  were  afraid.  And 
the  angel  said  unto  them,  Fear  not :  for,  behold,  I  bring  you 
good  tidings  of  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people.  For  unto 
you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of  David  a  Saviour,  which  is 
Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  you  :  Ye  shall 
find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes,  lying  in  a  manger. 

"  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of 
the  heavenly  host  praising  God,  and  saying,  Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest,  and  on  earth  Peace,  Good-will  toward  men. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  the  angels  were  gone  away  from 
them  into  heaven,  the  shepherds  said  one  to  another,  Let  us 
now  go  even  unto  Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing  which  is  come 
to  pass,  which  the  Lord  hath  made  known  unto  us.  And  they 
came  with  haste,  and  found  Mary  and  Joseph,  and  the  babe 
lying  in  a  manger.  And  when  they  had  seen  it,  they  made 
known  abroad  the  saying  which  was  told  them  concerning  this 
child.  And  all  they  that  heard  it  wondered  at  those  things 
which  were  told  them  by  the  shepherds.  But  Mary  kept  all 
these  things,  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart. 

"  And  the  shepherds  returned,  glorifying  and  praising  God 
for  all  the  things  that  they  had  heard  and  seen,  as  it  was  told 
unto  them." 


THE   CRADLE   OF  BETHLEHEM  29 

They  received  the  reward  of  faith;  having  heard  the 
heavenly  message,  they  believed  and  acted  upon  it.  They 
did  not  stop  to  question  or  reason  about  it.  They  did  not 
say,  "  How  can  this  be  1 "  but  "  Let  us  go  even  unto  Beth- 
lehem and  see  this  thing  which  is  come  to  pass."  And  so 
it  was  that  they  were  rewarded  by  seeing  and  hearing  the 
wonders  "as  it  was  told  unto  them." 

The  visit  of  these  simple,  confiding  souls  doubtless 
cheered  the  patient  hearts  of  the  humble  outcasts,  and 
strengthened  their  faith. 

If  now  it  be  asked,  Why  was  all  this  so  1  we  have  only 
to  answer  that  heaven  is  a  very  different  world  from  our 
earth,  and  that  heavenly  ways  of  viewing  people  and  things 
are  wholly  above  those  of  earth.  The  apostle  says  that  the 
foolishness  of  God  is  wiser  than  man,  and  the  weakness  of 
God  is  stronger  than  man;  that  the  things  that  are  highly 
esteemed  among  men  are  abominations  in  the  sight  of  God. 

When  a  new  king  and  a  new  kingdom  were  to  be  set  up 
on  earth,  no  pomp  of  man,  no  palace  made  with  hands, 
was  held  worthy  of  him;  few  were  the  human  hearts 
deemed  worthy  of  the  message,  and  these  were  people  that 
the  world  knew  not  of  —  simple-minded,  sincere,  loving, 
prayerful  people. 

The  priests  and  scribes  were  full  of  national  pride  and 
bitterness,  burning  for  revenge  on  the  Romans,  longing  for 
conquest  and  power.  They  were  impatiently  waiting  for 
the  Leader  whose  foot  should  be  on  the  necks  of  their 
enemies.  They  had  no  sense  of  sin,  no  longing  for  holi- 
ness, no  aspirations  for  a  Spiritual  Deliverer;  and  there- 
fore no  message  was  sent  to  them. 

But  to  the  simple-minded  Joseph  the  angel  said,  "Thou 
shalt  call  his  name  Jesus  (Saviour)  for  he  shall  save  his 
people  from  their  sins."  Not  from  the  Romans  but  from 
their  sins  he  came  to  save,  and  the  message  of  his  coming 
was  to  humble  souls,  who  wanted  this  kind  of  salvation. 


30  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

But  there  was  a  fitness  furthermore  in  these  circum- 
stances. Up  to  this  time  the  poor  and  the  unfortunate 
had  been  the  despised  of  the  earth.  It  had  been  predicted 
again  and  again  that  the  Messiah  should  be  the  especial 
Friend  of  the  poor  :  — 

"  He  shall  deliver  the  needy  when  he  crieth, 
The  poor  and  him  that  hath  no  helper. 
He  shall  spare  the  soul  of  the  needy, 
And  precious  shall  their  blood  be  in  his  sight." 

As  a  mother  when  seeking  a  lost  and  helpless  child, 
outcast  in  some  den  of  misery,  would  pass  by  palaces  and 
refuse  the  shelter  of  luxurious  roofs,  to  share  the  poverty 
of  her  beloved,  so  the  poor  man's  Friend  and  Lord  chose 
to  come  in  the  hut  and  the  stable  rather  than  in  the  palace, 
that  he  might  be  known  forever  as  the  God  of  the  poor, 
the  Patron  of  the  neglected,  and  the  Shepherd  of  the  lost. 


IV 

THE    BLESSED    WOMAN 

THERE  was  one  woman  whom  the  voice  of  a  divine 
Messenger,  straight  from  heaven,  pronounced  highly  fa- 
vored. In  what  did  this  favor  consist  1 

Of  noble  birth,  of  even  royal  lineage,  she  had  fallen 
into  poverty  and  obscurity.  The  great,  brilliant,  living 
world  of  her  day  knew 'her  as  the  rushing  equipages  and 
palatial  mansions  of  our  great  cities  know  the  daughters  of 
poor  mechanics  in  rural  towns. 

There  was  plenty  of  splendor,  and  rank,  and  fashion  in 
Jerusalem  then.  Herod  the  Great  was  a  man  of  cultiva- 
tion and  letters,  and  beautified  the  temple  with  all  sorts 
of  architectural  embellishments;  and  there  were  High 
Priests,  and  Levites,  and  a  great  religious  aristocracy 


THE   BLESSED   WOMAN  31 

circling  about  its  precincts,  all  of  whom,  if  they  thought 
of  any  woman  as  highly  favored  of  heaven,  would  have 
been  likely  to  think  of  somebody  quite  other,  than  the 
simple  country  girl  of  Nazareth.  Such  an  one  as  she  was 
not  in  all  their  thoughts.  Yet  she  was  the  highly  favored 
woman  of  the  world;  the  crowned  queen  of  women;  the 
One  whose  lot  —  above  that  of  all  that  have  lived  woman's 
life,  before  or  since  —  was  blessed. 

The  views  adopted  in  the  Roman  Church  with  respect 
to  this  one  Woman  of  women  have  tended  to  deprive  the 
rest  of  the  world  of  a  great  source  of  comfort  and  edifica- 
tion by  reason  of  the  opposite  extreme  to  which  Protestant 
reaction  has  naturally  gone. 

John  Knox  was  once  taken  on  board  a  ship  manned,  as 
he  says,  by  Popish  sailors,  who  gave  into  his  hand  an  image 
of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  wanted  to  compel  him  to  kiss  it. 
Stout  John  tossed  it  overboard,  saying,  "  Let  our  Lady  now 
save  herself;  she  is  light  enough,  let  her  learn  to  swim." 
To  have  honored  the  Virgin  Mary,  even  in  thought,  was 
shrunk  from  by  the  Protestants  of  those  times  as  an  ap- 
proach to  idolatry.  An  image  or  a  picture  of  her  in  a  Puri- 
tan house  would  have  been  considered  an  approach  to  the 
sin  of  Achan.  Truth  has  always  had  the  fate  of  the  shut- 
tlecock between  the  conflicting  battledoors  of  controversy. 

This  is  no  goddess  crowned  with  stars,  but  something 
nobler,  purer,  fairer,  more  appreciable  —  the  One  highly 
favored  and  blessed  among  Women. 

The  happiness  of  Mary's  lot  was  peculiar  to  woman- 
hood. It  lay  mostly  in  the  sphere  of  family  affection. 
Mary  had  in  this  respect  a  lot  whose  blessedness  was 
above  every  other  mother.  She  had  as  her  child  the  love- 
liest character  that  ever  unfolded  through  childhood  and 
youth  to  manhood.  He  was  entirely  her  own.  She  had 
a  security  in  possessing  him  such  as  is  not  accorded  to 
other  mothers.  She  knew  that  the  child  she  adored  was 


32  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

not  to  die  till  he  had  reached  man's  estate  —  she  had  no 
fear  that  accident,  or  sickness,  or  any  of  those  threatening 
causes  which  give  sad  hours  to  so  many  other  mothers, 
would  come  between  him  and  her. 

Neither  was  she  called  to  separate  from  him.  The 
record  shows  that  he  was  with  his  parents  until  their 
journey  to  Jerusalem,  when  he  was  twelve  years  old;  and 
then,  after  his  brief  absence  of  three  days  when  he  was 
left  behind,  and  found  in  the  temple  disputing  with  the 
doctors,  we  are  told  that  "he  went  down  to  Nazareth  and 
was  subject  unto  them." 

These  words  are  all  that  cover  eighteen  years  of  the 
purest  happiness  ever  given  to  mortal  woman.  To  love, 
to  adore,  to  possess  the  beloved  object  in  perfect  security, 
guarded  by  a  divine  promise  —  this  blessedness  was  given 
to  but  one  woman  of  all  the  human  race.  That  peaceful 
home  in  Nazareth,  overlooked  by  all  the  great,  gay  world, 
how  many  happy  hours  it  had!  Day  succeeded  day,  weeks 
went  to  months,  and  months  into  years,  and  this  is  all  the 
record :  "  Jesus  increased  in  wisdom  and  in  stature,  and  in 
favor  with  God  and  man." 

Looking  at  Jesus  as  a  mere  human  being,  a  historical 
character,  as  some  do,  the  one  great  peculiarity  of  him  is 
the  intensity  of  the  personal  affection  he  has  been  able  to 
inspire.  The  Apostles  give  him  one  title  which  was  his 
above  all  the  other  children  of  men,  "THE  BELOVED." 
Christ  has  been  and  now  is  beloved,  as  no  other  human 
being  ever  was.  Others  have  been  good  men,  —  true  men, 
benefactors  of  their  race,  —  but  when  they  died  their  per- 
sonality faded  from  the  earth. 

Tell  a  Hottentot  or  a  Zulu  the  story  of  Socrates,  and  it 
excites  no  very  deep  emotion;  but,  for  eighteen  hundred 
years,  Hottentots,  Zulus,  South  Sea  Islanders  and  savages, 
Greenlanders,  —  men,  women,  and  children  in  every  land, 
with  every  variety  of  constitutional  habit,  —  have  con- 


THE   BLESSED   WOMAN  33 

ceived  such  an  ardent,  passionate,  personal  love  to  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  that  they  have  been  ready  to  face  torture  and 
death  for  his  sake. 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  covet  things  visible  or  invisible," 
said  Polycarp,  on  his  way  to  martyrdom,  "if  only  I  may 
obtain  Jesus  Christ.  The  fire,  the  cross,  the  rush  of  wild 
beasts,  the  tearing  asunder  of  bones,  the  fracture  of  limbs, 
and  the  grinding  to  powder  of  the  whole  body,  let  these, 
the  devil's  torments,  come  upon  me,  provided  only  that  I 
obtain  Jesus  Christ." 

So  felt  the  Christians  of  the  first  ages,  and  time  does 
not  cool  the  ardor.  There  are  at  this  present  hour  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  obscure  men  and  women,  humble 
artisans,  ignorant  negroes,  to  whom  Christ  is  dearer  than 
life,  and  who  would  be  capable  of  just  this  grand  devotion. 
It  is  not  many  years  since  that  in  the  Island  of  Madagascar 
Christian  converts  were  persecuted,  and  there  were  those 
who  met  death  for  Christ's  sake  with  all  the  triumphant 
fervor  of  primitive  ages.  Jesus  has  been  the  one  man  of 
whom  it  has  been  possible  to  say  to  people  of  all  nations, 
ages,  and  languages,  "Whom  having  not  seen  ye  love,  and 
in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believing,  ye 
rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 

If  we  should  embody  our  idea  of  the  Son  with  whom 
Mary  lived  in  secure  intimacy  for  thirty  years,  we  should 
call  him  LOVE,  itself.  He  was  not  merely  lovely,  but  he 
was  love.  He  had  a  warming,  creative  power  as  to  love. 
He  gave  birth  to  new  conceptions  of  love;  to  a  fervor, 
a  devotion,  a  tenderness,  of  which  before  the  human  soul 
scarcely  knew  its  own  capacity. 

Napoleon  asserted  the  divinity  of  Jesus  from  the  sole 
fact  of  his  wonderful  power  of  producing  love.  "I  know 
men,"  he  said,  "and  I  know  Jesus  was  not  a  man;  — 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago  he  died  defeated,  reviled,  and 
yet  at  this  hour  there  are  thousands  all  over  the  world 


34  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

who  would  die  for  him.  I  am  defeated  and  overthrown, 
and  who  cares  for  me  now?  Who  fights,  who  conquers 
for  me1?  What  an  abyss  between  my  misery  and  the 
triumph  of  Jesus !  " 

The  blessedness  of  Mary  was  that  she  was  the  one 
human  being  who  had  the  right  of  ownership  and  intimate 
oneness  with  the  •  Beloved.  For  thirty  years  Jesus  had 
only  the  task  of  living  an  average,  quiet,  ordinary  human 
life.  He  was  a  humble  artisan,  peacefully  working  daily 
for  the  support  of  his  mother.  He  was  called  from  her 
by  no  public  duty;  he  was  hers  alone.  When  he  began 
his  public  career  he  transcended  these  limits.  Then  he 
declared  that  every  soul  that  heard  the  will  of  God,  and 
did  it,  should  be  to  him  as  his  mother  —  a  declaration  at 
which  every  Christian  should  veil  his  face  in  awe  and 
gratitude. 

We  may  imagine  the  peace,  the  joy,  the  serenity  of 
that  household  of  which  Jesus  was  the  centre.  He  read 
and  explained  the  Scriptures,  and  he  prayed  with  them, 
in  such  blessed  words  as  those  that  are  recorded  in  St. 
John's  Gospel.  In  this  life  of  simplicity  and  poverty  he 
taught  them  that  sweet  and  sacred  secret  of  a  peaceful 
daily  looking  to  God  for  food  and  raiment  that  can  be 
learned  only  by  the  poor  and  dependent.  He  made  labor 
holy  by  choosing  it  as  his  lot. 

Many  little  incidents  in  Christ's  life  show  the  man  of 
careful  domestic  habits.  He  was  in  all  things  methodical 
and  frugal.  The  miraculous  power  he  possessed  never  was 
used  to  surround  him  with  any  profusion.  He  would 
have  the  fragments  of  the  feast  picked  up  and  stored  in 
the  baskets,  "that  nothing  should  be  lost."  His  illustra- 
tions show  the  habits  of  a  frugal  home.  His  parable  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  likened  to  the  leaven  hidden  in  three 
measures  of  meal,  gives  us  to  believe  that  doubtless  he  had 
often  watched  his  mother  in  the  homely  process  of  bread- 


THE   BLESSED   WOMAN  35 

making.  The  woman,  who,  losing  one  piece  of  money 
from  her  little  store,  lights  a  candle  and  searches  dili- 
gently, brings  to  our  mind  the  dwelling  of  the  poor  where 
every  penny  has  its  value.  His  illustrations  from  hus- 
bandry—  ploughing,  sowing,  growing,  the  lost  sheep,  the 
ox  fallen  into  the  pit,  the  hen  and  her  chickens  —  all  show 
a  familiarity  and  a  kind  sympathy  with  the  daily  habits 
and  life  interests  of  the  poor.  Many  little  touches  indi- 
cate, also,  the  personal  refinement  and  delicacy  of  his 
habits,  the  order  and  purity  that  extended  to  all  his  ways. 
While  he  repressed  self-indulgence  and  the  profusion  of 
extravagant  luxury,  he  felt  keenly  and  justified  bravely 
that  profusion  of  the  heart  that  delights  in  costliness  as  an 
expression  of  love. 

There  seems  to  be  reason  to  think  that  the  retirement 
and  stillness  of  the  peasant  life  in  Nazareth,  its  deeply 
hidden  character,  was  peculiarly  suited  to  the  constitu- 
tional taste  both  of  Jesus  and  his  mother. 

Mary  seems,  from  the  little  we  see  of  her,  to  have  been 
one  of  those  silent,  brooding  women  who  seek  solitude  and 
meditation,  whose  thoughts  are  expressed  only  confiden- 
tially to  congenial  natures.  There  is  every  evidence  that 
our  Lord's  individual  and  human  nature  was  in  this 
respect  peculiarly  sympathetic  with  that  of  his  mother. 
The  prophecy  of  Isaiah  predicts  this  trait  of  his  character: 
"He  shall  not  cry,  nor  lift  up,  nor  cause  his  voice  to  be 
heard  in  the  street."  In  the  commencement  of  his  minis- 
try we  find  the  same  avoidance  of  publicity.  He  hushed 
the  zeal  of  his  disciples.  He  wrought  miracles  with  in- 
junctions of  secrecy  —  "See  thou  tell  no  man."  The  rush 
of  sensational  popularity  seemed  especially  distasteful  to 
him,  and  we  find  him  after  a  little  retiring  from  it. 
"Come  ye  with  me  into  a  desert  place  and  rest  awhile," 
he  says  to  his  disciples,  "for  there  were  so  many  coming 
and  going  that  they  found  no  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat." 


36  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

Thus,  the  retirement  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane — 
where  it  is  said  Jesus  ofttimes  resorted  with  his  disciples 
—  and  the  quietude  of  the  family  of  Mary,  Martha,  and 
Lazarus  at  Bethany,  seemed  to  be  especially  attractive  to 
him.  Indeed,  so  great  a  desire  had  he  for  quiet  and  peace, 
and  for  the  calm  of  that  congenial  thought  and  communion 
that  can  be  had  with  but  a  few,  that  his  public  life  must 
be  regarded  as  a  constant  act  of  self-abnegation.  It  was 
as  foreign  to  him  to  be  out  in  the  hot  glare  and  dust  of 
publicity,  and  to  battle  in  the  crowded  ways  of  life,  as  to 
the  most  gentle  woman.  Divine  Love  was  ever,  in  this 
bustling,  noisy,  vulgar,  outward  life,  lonely,  and  a 
stranger.  "He  was  in  the  world,7'  says  St.  John,  "and  the 
world  was  made  by  him,  but  the  world  knew  him  not." 

There  was  one  woman  of  all  women  to  whom  it  was 
given  to  know  him  perfectly,  entirely,  intimately  —  to 
whom  his  nature  was  knit  in  the  closest  possible  union 
and  identity.  He  was  bone  of  her  bone  and  flesh  of  her 
flesh  —  his  life  grew  out  of  her  immortal  nature.  We  are 
led  to  see  in  our  Lord  a  peculiarity  as  to  the  manner  of 
his  birth  which  made  him  more  purely  sympathetic  with 
his  mother  than  any  other  son  of  woman.  He  had  no 
mortal  father.  All  that  was  human  in  him  was  her 
nature;  it  was  the  union  of  the  divine  nature  with  the 
nature  of  a  pure  woman.  Hence  there  was  in  Jesus  more 
of  the  pure  feminine  element  than  in  any  other  man.  It 
was  the  feminine  element  exalted  and  taken  in  union  with 
divinity.  Robertson  has  a  very  interesting  sermon  on 
this  point,  showing  how  the  existence  of  this  feminine 
element  in  the  character  of  Jesus  supplies  all  that  want  in 
the  human  heart  to  which  it  has  been  said  the  worship  of 
the  Virgin  Mother  was  adapted.  Christ,  through  his 
intimate  relationship  with  this  one  highly  favored  among 
women,  had  the  knowledge  of  all  that  the  heart  of  man 
or  woman  can  seek  for  its  needs. 


THE   BLESSED   WOMAN  37 

There  is  in  the  sacred  narrative  a  reticence  in  regard 
to  the  mother  of  Jesus  which  would  seem  to  bear  very 
significantly  upon  any  theories  of  their  mutual  relations, 
and  especially  upon  their  present  connection  in  spiritual 
matters  —  the  idea  that  Mary,  as  Mother  of  God,  retains 
in  heaven  authority  over  her  son,  and  that  he  can  deny 
her  nothing.  St.  John  takes  care  to  state  specifically  the 
scene  in  Cana  of  Galilee  where  Jesus  informs  his  mother 
that,  in  his  divine  relations  and  duties,  her  motherly  rela- 
tion has  no  place.  "Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee  ? 
mine  hour  is  not  yet  come." 

The  address,  though  not  in  the  connection  wanting  in 
respect,  or  so  abrupt  as  it  appears  in  the  translation,  was 
still  very  decided,  and  was  undoubtedly  one  of  those  decla- 
rations meant  not  only  for  her  but  for  mankind.  In  the 
same  spirit  are  his  words  where,  in  his  public  ministration, 
word  was  brought  to  him  that  his  mother  and  his  brethren 
stood  without,  desiring  to  see  him :  — 

"Who  is  my  mother,  and  who  are  my  brethren?  And  he 
looked  around  on  them  that  sat  about  him,  and  said,  Behold 
my  mother  and  my  brethren.  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will 
of  God,  the  same  is  my  brother  and  sister  and  mother." 

From  that  noble  utterance,  the  Song  of  Mary,  —  retained 
by  the  church  as  a  Magnificat,  —  there  is  evidence  of  a  soul 
not  only  exalted  by  genius  and  enthusiasm,  but  steeped 
in  the  traditions  of  ancient  prophecy.  It  is  so  like  the 
Psalms  of  David  that  a  verse  of  it,  if  read  out  casually, 
might  seem  to  be  taken  from  them.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
a  soul  like  this,  when  possessed  of  the  great  secret  of  pro- 
phecy, devoted  itself  with  ardor  to  all  in  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  which  foreshadowed  her  son's  career.  She  was 
the  first  teacher  of  the  child  Jesus  in  the  Law  and  the 
Prophets.  One  of  Raphael's  most  beautiful  conceptions  of 
her  represents  her  sitting  thoughtfully,  holding  the  hand 
of  the  infant  Jesus,  while  the  roll  of  the  prophecies  lies 


38  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  are  fixed  on  the  distance  as  in 
deep  thought.  There  is  a  similar  picture  of  her  by  Palma 
Vecchio.  The  communings  of  Christ  and  his  mother  on 
these  subjects  must  have  been  so  long  and  so  intimate  that 
she  more  calmly  and  clearly  knew  exactly  whither  his  life 
was  tending  than  did  his  disciples.  She  had  been  fore- 
warned in  Daniel  of  the  time  when  the  Messiah  was  to  be 
cut  off,  but  not  for  himself;  she  understood,  doubtless, 
the  deep,  hidden  meaning  of  the  Psalm  that  describes  the 
last  agonies,  the  utter  abandonment  of  her  son. 

There  is  in  her  whole  character  a  singular  poise  and 
calmness.  When  the  Angel  of  the  Annunciation  appeared 
to  her  she  was  not  overcome  by  the  presence  of  a  spiritual 
being  as  Daniel  was,  who  records  that  "  he  fell  on  his  face 
and  there  was  no  strength  in  him."  Mary,  in  calm  and 
firm  simplicity,  looks  the  angel  in  the  face,  and  ponders 
what  the  wonderful  announcement  may  mean.  When  she 
finds  that  it  really  does  mean  that  she,  a  poor  lonely 
maiden,  is  the  chosen  woman  of  all  the  human  race  —  the 
gainer  of  the  crown  of  which  every  Jewish  woman  had 
dreamed  for  ages  —  she  is  still  calm.  She  does  not  sink 
under  the  honor,  she  is  not  confused  or  overcome,  but 
answers  with  gentle  submission,  "Behold  the  handmaid  of 
the  Lord,  be  it  unto  me  according  to  his  word." 

Yet  the  words  of  the  Magnificat  show  a  keen  sense  of 
the  honor  and  favor  done  her.  She  exults  in  it  with  an 
innocent  heartiness  of  simplicity.  "He  hath  regarded  the 
low  estate  of  his  handmaid,  for  from  henceforth  all  nations 
shall  call  me  blessed." 

It  is  remarkable  that  Mary  was  never  in  any  one  in- 
stance associated  in  public  work  with  Jesus.  She  was  not 
among  the  women  who  are  mentioned  as  following  and 
ministering  unto  him.  She  was,  it  seems,  in  Jerusalem 
at  the  last  Passover  of  our  Lord,  but  it  was  not  with  her, 
or  at  her  table,  that  he  prepared  to  eat  the  Passover.  He 


THE    BLESSED   WOMAN  39 

did  that  as  master  in  his  own  house,  with  a  family  of  little 
children  of  his  own  choosing.  Mary  was  not  at  the  first 
Eucharistic  feast.  Undoubtedly  there  was  foreknowledge 
and  divine  design  in  all  this,  and  doubtless  Jesus  and 
Mary  were  so  completely  one  in  will  and  purpose  that  she 
was  of  perfect  accord  with  him  in  all  these  arrangements. 
There  are  souls  so  perfectly  attuned  to  each  other,  with 
such  an  exact  understanding  and  sympathy,  that  personal 
presence  no  longer  becomes  a  necessity.  They  are  always 
with  each  other  in  spirit,  however  outwardly  separated. 
But  we  find  her  with  him  once  more,  openly  and  visibly, 
in  the  hour  when  all  others  forsook  him.  The  delicacy  of 
woman  may  cause  her  to  shrink  from  the  bustle  of  public 
triumph,  but  when  truth  and  holiness  are  brought  to 
public  scorn  she  is  there  to  defend,  to  suffer,  to  die. 

Can  we  conceive  what  this  mob  was,  that  led  Jesus 
forth  to  death?  Mobs  in  our  day  are  brutal,  but  what 
were  they  then?  Consider  what  the  times  must  have 
been  when  scourging  was  an  ordinary  punishment  for 
criminals,  and  crucifixion  an  ordinary  mode  of  execution; 
what  were  the  sights,  the  sounds,  the  exhibitions  of  bru- 
tality among  which  Mary  and  the  women  friends  of  Jesus 
followed  him  to  the  cross ! 

And  Mary  did  not  faint  —  did  not  sink.  She  did  not 
fall  to  the  earth  when  an  angel  predicted  her  glory;  she  did 
not  fall  now,  when  the  sword  had  gone  through  her  heart. 
It  is  all  told  in  one  word,  "Now  there  stood  by  the  cross 
of  Jesus  his  mother."  The  last  word  that  Jesus  spoke  to 
any  mortal  ear  was  to  commend  her  to  his  dearest  friend. 

After  the  resurrection  Mary  appears  once  more  among 
the  disciples,  waiting  and  praying  for  a  descent  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  —  and  then  in  the  sacred  record  we  hear  of 
her  no  more. 

But  enough  is  recorded  of  her  to  make  her  forever  dear 
to  aU  Christian  hearts.  That  Mary  is  now  with  Jesus, 


40  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

that  there  is  an  intimacy  and  sympathy  between  her  soul 
and  his  such  as  belong  to  no  other  created  being,  seems 
certain.  Nor  should  we  suffer  anything  to  prevent  that 
just  love  and  veneration  which  will  enable  us  to  call  her 
Blessed,  and  to  look  forward  to  meeting  her  in  heaven  as 
one  of  the  brightest  joys  of  that  glorious  world. 


THE    HOLY    CHILDHOOD 

IN  the  first  recorded  public  prayer  of  the  Apostles  after 
the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  he  is  called  "THY  HOLY 
CHILD  JESUS." 

The  expression  is  a  very  beautiful  one  if  we  couple  it 
with  the  Master's  declaration  that  the  greatest  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  the  most  like  a  little  child,  and  that  to 
become  as  a  little  child  is  the  first  step  toward  fitness  for 
the  knowledge  of  spiritual  things. 

There  has  been  in  this  world  one  rare  flower  of  Para- 
dise, —  a  holy  childhood  growing  up  gradually  into  a  holy 
manhood,  and  always  retaining  in  mature  life  the  precious, 
unstained  memories  of  perfect  innocence.  The  family  at 
Nazareth  was  evidently  a  secluded  one.  Persons  of  such 
an  elevated  style  of  thought  as  Joseph  and  Mary,  conscious 
of  so  solemn  a  destiny  and  guarding  with  -awe  the  treasure 
and  hope  of  a  world,  must  have  been  so  altogether  differ- 
ent from  the  ordinary  peasants  of  Nazareth  that  there 
could  have  been  little  more  than  an  external  acquaintance 
between  them.  They  were  undoubtedly  loving,  gentle, 
and  tender  to  every  one,  full  -of  sympathy  for  trouble  and 
of  kind  offices  in  sickness,  but  they  carried  within  their 
hearts  a  treasury  of  thoughts,  emotions,  and  hopes,  which 
could  not  be  perceived  by  those  whose  spiritual  eyes  had 


THE   HOLY   CHILDHOOD  41 

never  been  opened.  It  is  quite  evident  from  the  surprise 
that  the  Nazarenes  manifested  when  Christ  delivered  his 
first  sermon  among  them  that  they  had  never  seen  any- 
thing unusual  in  the  family,  and  that  Christ  himself  had 
been  living  among  them  only  as  the  carpenter's  son.  This 
case  is  not  peculiar.  The  great  artist  or  poet  often  grows 
to  manhood  without  one  of  his  townspeople  suspecting  who 
he  is,  and  what  world  he  lives  in.  Milton  or  Raphael 
might  so  have  grown  up  unknown  in  a  town  of  obscure 
fishermen. 

The  apocryphal  gospels  have  busied  themselves  in  in- 
venting legends  of  this  child-life  of  Jesus.  Nothing  so 
much  shows  the  difference  between  the  false  and  the  true 
as  these  apocryphal  gospels  compared  with  the  real.  Jesus 
is  represented  there  as  a  miraculous  child,  using  super- 
natural power  for  display  among  his  schoolmates  and  for 
the  gratification  of  childish  piques  and  resentments. 

The  true  gospel  gives  but  one  incident  of  the  child-life 
of  Jesus,  and  that  just  at  the  time  when  childhood  is 
verging  into  youth;  for  the  rest,  we  are  left  to  conjecture. 

We  are  told  that  his  infancy  was  passed  in  the  land  of 
Egypt.  Jesus  was  the  flower  of  his  nation,  —  he  was  the 
blossom  of  its  history,  —  and  therefore  it  seemed  befitting 
that  his  cradle  should  be  where  was  the  cradle  of  his  great 
forerunner,  Moses,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  The  sha- 
dows of  the  Pyramids,  built  by  the  labors  of  his  ancestors, 
were  across  the  land  of  his  childhood,  and  the  great  story 
of  their  oppression  and  deliverance  must  have  filled  the 
thoughts  and  words  of  his  parents.  So  imbued  was  the 
Jewish  mind  with  the  habit  of  seeing  in  everything  in 
their  history  the  prophecy  and  type  of  the  great  Fulfiller, 
that  St.  Matthew  speaks  of  this  exile  in  Egypt  as  having 
occurred  that  the  type  might  find  completeness,  and  that 
Israel,  in  the  person  of  its  Head  and  Representative,  might 
a  second  time  be  called  out  of  Egypt :  — • 


42  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE    MASTER 

"  That  it  might  be  fulfilled  that  was  spoken  of  the  Lord  by 
the  prophet, 

"  Out  of  Egypt  have  I  called  my  son." 

We  do  not  know  with  any  defmiteness  the  length  of 
this  sojourn  in  Egypt,  nor  how  much  impression  the  weird 
and  solemn  scenery  and  architecture  of  Egypt  may  have 
made  upon  the  susceptible  mind  of  the  child;  but  to  the 
parents  it  must  have  powerfully  and  vividly  recalled  all 
that  ancient  and  prophetic  literature  which  in  every  step 
pointed  to  their  wonderful  son.  The  earliest  instructions 
of  Jesus  must  have  been  in  this  history  and  literature  of 
his  own  nation  —  a  literature  unique,  poetic,  and  sublime. 
But  we  have  no  tidings  of  him  till  that  time  in  his  history 
when,  according  to  the  customs  of  his  people,  he  was  of 
age  to  go  up  to  the  great  national  festival  at  Jerusalem. 

The  young  Jewish  boy  was  instructed  all  the  earlier 
years  of  his  life  in  view  of  this  great  decisive  step,  which, 
like  confirmation  in  the  Christian  Church,  ranked  him  as 
a  fully  admitted  member  of  the  house  of  Israel.  It  was 
customary  to  travel  to  Jerusalem  in  large  companies  or 
caravans,  beguiling  the  way  with  hymns  of  rejoicing  as 
they  drew  nigh  to  the  holy  city.  Jesus,  probably,  was 
one  of  many  boys  who  for  the  first  time  were  going  up  to 
their  great  national  festival. 

One  incident  only  of  this  journey  is  given,  but  that  a 
very  striking  one.  After  the  feast  was  over,  when  the 
caravan  was  returning,  they  passed  a  day's  journey  on 
their  way  without  perceiving  that  the  child  was  not  among 
the  travelers.  This  —  in  a  large  company  of  kinsfolk  and 
acquaintance,  and  where  Jesus  might  have  been,  as  he 
always  afterward  seemed  to  be,  a  great  personal  favorite  — 
was  quite  possible.  His  parents,  trusting  him  wholly, 
and  feeling  that  he  was  happy  among  friends,  gave  them- 
selves no  care  till  the  time  of  the  evening  encampment. 
Then,  discovering  their  loss,  they  immediately  retraced 


THE   HOLY   CHILDHOOD  43 

their  steps  the  next  day  to  Jerusalem,  inquiring  for  him 
vainly  among  their  acquaintances.  They  at  last  turned 
their  steps  toward  the  outer  courts  of  the  temple,  where 
was  the  school  of  the  learned  Rabbins  who  explained  the 
law  of  God.  There,  seated  at  their  feet,  eager  and  ear- 
nest, asking  them  questions  and  hearing  their  answers,  the 
child  Jesus  had  awakened  to  a  new  and  deeper  life,  and 
become  so  absorbed  as  to  forget  time,  place,  friends,  and 
everything  else  in  the  desire  to  understand  the  Holy 
Word. 

It  is  a  blot  upon  this  beautiful  story  to  speak  of  Jesus 
as  "  disputing  "  with  the  teachers  of  his  nation,  or  setting 
himself  up  to  instruct  them.  His  position  was  that  of 
a  learner;  we  are  not  told  that  he  asserted  anything,  but 
that  he  listened  and  asked  questions.  The  questions  of 
a  pure  child  are  often  the  most  searching  that  can  be 
asked;  the  questions  of  the  holy  child  Jesus  must  have 
penetrated  to  the  very  deepest  of  divine  mysteries.  Those 
masterly  discussions  of  the  sayings  of  the  Rabbins,  which 
years  after  appeared  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  may 
have  sprung  from  seeds  thus  dropped  into  the  childish 
mind. 

But,  while  he  is  thus  absorbed  and  eager,  his  soul  burn- 
ing with  newly  kindled  enthusiasm,  suddenly  his  parents, 
agitated  and  distressed,  lay  hold  on  him  with  tender 
reproach:  "Son,  why  hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us? 
Behold,  thy  father  and  I  have  sought  thee  sorrowing." 

Jesus  answers,  as  he  so  often  did  in  after  life,  as  speak- 
ing almost  unconsciously  out  of  some  higher  sphere,  and 
in  higher  language  than  that  of  earth:  "How  is  it  that 
ye  sought  me  ?  Did  ye  not  know  that  I  must  be  about 
my  Father's  business? " 

It  seemed  to  say,  "Why  be  alarmed?  is  not  this  my 
Father's  house;  is  not  this  study  of  his  law  my  proper 
work;  and  where  should  I  be  but  here? " 


44  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

But  immediately  it  is  added,  "He  went  down  to  Naza- 
reth and  was  subject  to  them."  Even  Christ  pleased  not 
himself;  the  holiest  fire,  the  divinest  passion,  was  made 
subject  to  the  heavenly  order,  and  immediately  he  yielded 
to  the  father  and  mother  whom  God  had  made  his  guides 
an  implicit  obedience. 

We  have  here  one  glimpse  of  a  consuming  ardor,  a 
burning  enthusiasm,  which  lay  repressed  and  hidden  for 
eighteen  years  more,  till  the  Father  called  him  to  speak. 

That  simple,  natural  utterance  in  the  child's  mouth  — 
"My  Father"  —  shows  the  secret  of  the  holy  peace  which 
kept  him  happy  in  waiting.  The  Father  was  a  serene 
presence,  an  intimate  and  inward  joy.  In  the  beautiful 
solitudes  about  Nazareth  the  divine  benediction  came  down 
upon  him :  — 

"  I  will  be  as  the  dew  to  Israel : 
He  shall  grow  as  the  lily, 
And  cast  forth  his  roots  as  Lebanon." 

These  two  natural  symbols  seem  fittest  to  portray  the 
elements  of  that  holy  childhood  which  grew  to  holiest 
manhood.  They  give  us,  as  its  marked  characteristics, 
the  shining  purity  of  the  lily  and  the  grand  strength  and 
stability  of  the  cedars  of  Lebanon. 


VI 


GENTILE    PROPHECIES    OF    CHRIST 

"Now  when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judaea,  in  the  days  of 
Herod  the  king,  behold  there  came  wise  men  to  Jerusalem,  saying, 
Where  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ?  for  we  have  seen  his  star  in 
the  east,  and  are  come  to  worship  him." 

WAS  the  Messiah  to  be  the  King  of  the  Jews  alone? 
No;  he  was  for  the  world;  he  was  the  Good  Shepherd  of 


GENTILE   PROPHECIES   OF   CHRIST  45 

nations,   and  declared  that  he  had  "other   sheep,   not   of 
this  fold." 

It  seems  to  be  most  striking  that,  in  the  poetical  and 
beautiful  account  of  the  birth  of  Jesus,  there  is  record  of 
two  distinct  classes  who  come  to  pay  him  homage  —  not 
only  the  simple-minded  and  devout  laboring  people  of  the 
Jews,  but  also  the  learned  sages  of  the  Gentiles. 

There  are  constant  intimations  throughout  the  Old  Tes- 
tament that  God's  choice  of  the  Jews  was  no  favoritism; 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  other  races,  but  was  still  the 
God  and  Father  of  mankind;  and  that  he  chose  Israel  not 
to  aggrandize  one  people,  but  to  make  that  people  his  gift- 
bearers  to  the  whole  world. 

There  are  distinct  evidences  in  the  Old  Testament  that 
the  coming  Saviour  was  caring  for  others  beside  the  Jewish 
race.  Witness  his  gracious  promise  to  the  slave  Hagar 
that  he  would  bless  her  descendants.  In  the  very  family 
line  from  which  Messiah  was  to  be  born  a  loving  and 
lovely  Moabite  woman  was  suffered  to  be  introduced  as 
the  near  ancestress  of  King  David,  and  the  name  of  the 
Gentile  Ruth  stands  in  the  genealogy  of  Jesus  as  a  sort 
of  intimation  that  he  belonged  not  to  a  race  but  to  the 
world.  In  a  remarkable  passage  of  Isaiah  (xliv.  28,  xlv.  1, 
4,  5)  Jehovah,  proclaiming  his  supreme  power,  declares 
himself  to  be  He 

"  That  saith  of  Cyrus  — 
He  is  my  shepherd, 
He  shall  perform  all  my  pleasure. 
Even  saying  to  Jerusalem,  Thou  shalt  be  built ; 
And  to  the  Temple,  Thy  foundations  shall  be  laid. 
Thus  saith  the  Lord  to  his  anointed, 
To  Cyrus,  whose  right  hand  I  have  holden. 


For  Jacob  my  servant's  sake, 

For  Israel  mine  elect, 

I  have  called  thee  by  my  name  : 


46  FOOTSTEPS    OF   THE    MASTER 

I  have  surnamed  thee,  tJiough  thou  hast  not  known  me. 

I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else,  there  is  no  God  beside 

me  : 
I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not  known  me." 

The  Babylonian  captivity  answered  other  purposes  be- 
side the  punishment  and  restoration  of  the  Jewish  nation 
to  the  worship  of  the  true  God.  It  was  a  sort  of  pro- 
phetic "Epiphany,"  in  which  the  Messianic  aspirations  of 
the  Jews  fell  outside  of  their  own  nation,  like  sparks  of 
fire  on  those  longings  which  were  common  to  the  human 
race.  Even  the  Jewish  prophet  spoke  of  the  Messiah  as 
"The  Desire  of  all  Nations.77 

And  this  desire  and  the  hope  of  its  fulfillment  were 
burning  fervently  in  the  souls  of  all  the  best  of  the  Gentile 
nations;  for  not  among  the  Jews  alone,  but  among  all  the 
main  races  and  peoples  of  antiquity,  have  there  been  pro- 
phecies and  traditions  more  or  less  clear  of  a  Being  who 
should  redeem  the  race  of  man  from  the  power  of  evil  and 
bring  in  an  era  of  peace  and  love. 

The  yearning,  suffering  'heart  of  humanity  formed  to 
itself  such  a  conception  out  of  its  own  sense  of  need. 
Poor  helpless  man  felt  himself  an  abandoned  child,  with- 
out a  Father,  in  a  scene  of  warring  and  contending  forces. 
The  mighty,  mysterious,  terrible  God  of  nature  was  a 
being  that  he  could  not  understand,  felt  unable  to  ques- 
tion. Job  in  his  hour  of  anguish  expressed  the  universal 
longing :  — 

"  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him  !  I  would  come 
even  to  his  seat,  I  would  order  my  cause  before  him,  I  would 
fill  my  mouth  with  arguments.  Would  he  plead  against  me 
with  his  great  power  ?  Nay,  but  he  would  put  strength  in 
me." 

And  again :  — 

"  He  is  not  a  man  as  I  am  that  I  should  answer  him,  and 
that  we  should  come  together  in  judgment.  Neither  is  there 
any  daysman  that  might  lay  his  hand  on  both  of  us." 


GENTILE   PROPHECIES   OF   CHRIST  47 

It  was  for  this  Mediator,  both  divine  and  human,  who 
should  interpret  the  silence  of  God  to  man,  who  should  be 
his  WORD  to  his  creatures,  that  all  humanity  was  sighing. 
Therefore  it  was  that  the  first  vague  promise  was  a  seed 
of  hope,  not  only  in  the  Jewish  race,  but  in  all  other 
nations  of  the  earth. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  beautiful  prophecies  of  the 
coming  Messiah  is  from  the  heathen  astrologer,  Balaam :  — 

"  Balaam  the  son  of  Beor  saith, 
The  man  whose  eyes  are  open,  saith> 
He  which  heard  the  word  of  God 
And  knew  the  knowledge  of  the  Most  High, 
Which  saw  the  vision  of  the  Almighty, 
Falling  into  a  trance  and  having  his  eyes  open : 
I  shall  see  HIM,  but  not  now. 
I  shall  behold  HIM,  but  not  nigh. 
There  shall  come  a  STAR  out  of  Jacob, 
A  sceptre  shall  rise  out  of  Israel. 
Out  of  Jacob  shall  come  HE  that  shall  have  dominion ! " 

Of  late  there  has  been  discovered  in  Nineveh  a  large 
work  on  the  system  of  magic  of  the  Chaldee  soothsayers, 
written  on  tiles  of  baked  clay,  in  the  "arrow-head"  charac- 
ters. Here  we  have  a  minute  account  of  the  Chaldeans  — 
the  astrologers  and  the  sorcerers  spoken  of  in  Daniel  — 
with  specimens  of  their  liturgic  forms  and  invocations. 
M.  Lenormant,  who  has  issued  a  minute  account  of  this 
work  with  translations  of  many  parts  of  it,  gives  an  inter- 
esting account  of  the  religious  ideas  of  the  Chaldees  in  the 
very  earliest  period  of  antiquity,  as  old  or  older  than  that 
of  the  soothsayer  Balaam. 

He  says  the  supreme  divinity,  whom  they  called  EA, 
was  regarded  as  too  remote  and  too  vast  to  be  approached 
by  human  prayer,  and  that  he  was  to  be  known  only 
through  the  medium  of  another  divinity,  his  first-begotten 
Son,  to  whom  is  given  a  name  signifying  the  Benefactor  of 
Man.  The  prayers  and  ascriptions  to  this  divinity  remind 


48  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

us  of  the  Old  Testament  addresses  to  the  Messiah.     The 
Hebrew  poet  says :  — 

"  Of  old  hast  thou  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth, 
And  the  heavens  are  the  work  of  thy  hands." 

The  ancient  invocation  upon  the  tiles  of  Nineveh  ad- 
dressed to  the  Mediator  runs  thus :  — 

"  Great  Lord  of  earth  !  King  of  all  lands, 
First-begotten  Son  of  Ea, 
Director  of  heaven  and  earth, 
Most  merciful  among  the  gods, 
Thou  who  restorest  the  dead  to  life." 

We  see  here  the  reflection  of  a  Being  such  as  the  con- 
temporaries of  Abraham  in  the  land  of  the  Chaldees  must 
have  looked  forward  to  —  an  image  of  that  diffused  and 
general  faith  which  pervaded  the  world  in  the  days  when 
the  patriarch  was  called  to  be  the  Father  of  a  peculiar 
people. 

In  the  Zendavesta  —  begun  about  the  age  of  Daniel  — 
also  are  traces  of  the  same  Being,  with  prophecies  of  his 
future  appearance  on  earth  to  restore  the  human  race  to 
peace  and  goodness. 

In  one  of  the  Zend  books  we  have  a  passage  strikingly 
like  some  of  the  prophetic  parts  of  Daniel.  As  Nebuchad- 
nezzar saw  the  future  history  of  the  world  under  the  form 
of  an  image,  made  of  four  precious  metals,  so  Zoroaster 
was  made  to  see  the  same  under  the  image  of  a  tree  in 
which  four  trunks  proceed  from  a  common  root.  The 
first  was  a  golden,  the  second  a  silver,  the  third  a  steel, 
and  the  fourth  an  iron  one. 

In  the  same  manner  as  in  Daniel,  these  trees  are  inter- 
preted as  successive  monarchies  of  the  earth.  The  last, 
the  iron  one,  was  to  be  the  dominion  of  demons  and  dark 
powers  of  evil,  and  after  it  was  to  come  the  SAVIOUR,  or 
SOSIOSCH  (a  Zend  word),  who  was  to  bring  in  the  restitu- 


GENTILE   PROPHECIES   OF   CHRIST  49 

tion  of  all  things  from  the  power  of  evil,  and  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead.1 

The  same  ideas  were  expressed  in  the  Sibylline  oracles. 
The  story  of  the  Sibyl  who  offered  her  books  to  Tarquin, 
in  the  early  days  of  Rome,  is  known  to  every  child  who 
studies  Boman  history.  From  the  remains  of  these  writ- 
ings, still  extant,  they  appear  to  contain  predictions  of 
the  world's  future,  much  resembling  those  of  Daniel  and 
Isaiah.  They  predict  the  coming  of  a  Great  Deliverer  of 
the  human  race,  a  millennium  of  righteousness,  a  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead,  and  a  Day  of  Judgment. 

About  forty  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  Virgil 
wrote  his  beautiful  Eclogue  of  Pollio.  The  birthplace  of 
Virgil  was  near  the  town  of  Cumae,  where  lived  the 
Cumsean  Sibyl,  and  her  traditionary  history  and  her  writ- 
ings must  have  deeply  impressed  his  mind.  Possibly  he 
only  thought  of  them  as  a  poet  thinks  of  a  fine  theme  for 
the  display  of  poetic  imagery;  and  possibly  he  may  have 
meant  to  make  of  this  eclogue  a  complimentary  prophecy 
of  some  patron  among  the  powerful  of  his  times.  But 
when  we  remember  that  it  was  published  only  about  forty 
years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  and  that  no  other  histori- 
cal character  corresponding  to  this  prediction  ever  appeared, 
it  becomes,  to  say  the  least,  a  remarkable  coincidence. 

Bishop  Lowth  says  that  the  mystery  of  this  eclogue  has 
never  been  solved,  and  intimates  that  he  would  scarcely 
dare  to  express  some  of  the  suppositions  which  it  has 
inspired. 

May  not  Virgil,  like  Balaam,  have  been  carried  beyond 
himself  in  the  trance  of  poetic  inspiration,  and  seen  afar 
the  "  Star  "  that  should  arise  out  of  Israel  1  He  too  might 
have  exclaimed :  — 

1  These  passages  are  quoted  and  commented  on  by  Hilgenfeld  on  the 
Apocalyptic  Literature  of  the  Hebrews,  and.  Liicke  on  the  Apocalypse  of  St. 
John. 


50  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE   MASTER 

"  I  shall  see  him,  but  not  now. 
I  shall  behold  him,  but  not  nigh." 

The  words  of  Virgil  have  a  fire  and  fervor  such  as  he 
seems  to  have  had  in  no  other  composition,  as  he  sings :  — 

"  The  last  age  of  the  Cumsean  song  is  come. 
The  great  cycle  of  ages  hastens  to  a  new  beginning. 
Now,  too,  returns  the  reign  of  Justice. 
The  golden  age  of  Saturn  now  returns. 
While  thou,  Pollio,  art  consul, 
This  glory  of  our  age  shall  make  his  appearance. 
The  great  months  begin  to  roll. 
He  shall  partake  of  the  life  of  the  gods, 
And  rule  the  peaceful  world  with  his  father's  virtues." 

Then  follow  a  profusion  of  images  of  peace  and  plenty 
that  should  come  to  the  world  in  the  reign  of  this  hero. 
All  poisonous  and  hurtful  things  shall  die;  all  rare  and 
beautiful  ones  shall  grow  and  abound;  there  shall  be  no 
more  toil,  no  more  trouble.  Then,  with  a  fine  burst  of 
imagery,  the  poet  represents  the  Fates  themselves  as  sing- 
ing, to  the  whirring  music  of  their  spindles,  a  song  of 
welcome :  — 

"  Ye  ages,  hasten ! 

Dear  offspring  of  the  gods,  set  forward  on  thy  way  to  highest 
honors ; 

The  time  is  at  hand. 

See,  the  world  with  its  round  weight  bows  to  thee. 

To  thee  bow  the  earth,  the  regions  of  the  sea  and  heaven  sub- 
lime. 

See  how  all  things  rejoice  at  the  approach  of  this  age ! 

O  that  my  life  might  last  to  see  and  sing  thy  deeds  !  " 

The  close  of  this  eclogue  has  a  mysterious  tenderness. 
The  poet  predicts  that  this  sublime  personage,  for  whom 
the  world  is  waiting,  should  be  born  amidst  the  afflictions 
of  his  parents  and  under  a  cloud  of  poverty  and  neglect :  — 

"  Come,  little  boy,  and  know  thy  mother  with  a  smile. 
Come,  little  boy,  on  \vhom  thy  parents  smile  not, 
Whom  no  god  honors  with  a  table, 
No  goddess  with  a  cradle." 


GENTILE   PROPHECIES   OF  CHRIST  51 

It  would  seem  as  if  the  sensitive  soul  of  Virgil,  in  the 
ecstasy  of  poetic  inspiration,  acquired  a  vague  clairvoyance 
of  that  scene  at  Bethlehem  when  there  was  no  room  for 
Joseph  and  Mary  at  the  inn,  and  the  Heir  of  all  things 
lay  in  a  manger,  outcast  and  neglected. 

Not  in  Virgil  alone,  but  scattered  also  here  and  there 
through  all  antiquity,  do  we  find  vague,  half -prophetic 
aspirations  after  the  divine  Teacher  who  should  interpret 
God  to  man,  console  under  the  sorrows  of  life,  and  charm 
away  the  fears  of  death.  In  the  Phsedo,  when  Socrates  is 
comforting  his  sorrowful  disciples  in  view  of  his  approach- 
ing death,  and  setting  before  them  the  probabilities  of  a 
continued  life  beyond  the  grave,  one  of  them  tells  him 
that  they  believe  while  they  hear  him,  but  when  he  is 
gone  their  doubts  will  all  return,  and  says,  "Where  shall 
we  find  a  charmer  then  to  disperse  our  fears  ? "  Socrates 
answers  that  such  a  Charmer  will  yet  arise,  and  bids  his 
disciples  seek  him  in  all  lands  of  the  earth.  Greece,  he 
says,  is  wide,  and  there  are  many  foreign  lands  and  even 
barbarous  countries  in  which  they  should  travel  searching 
for  Him,  for  there  is  nothing  for  which  they  could  more 
reasonably  spend  time  and  money. 

And  in  the  discourse  of  Socrates  with  Alcibiades,  as 
given  by  Plato,  the  great  philosopher  is  represented  as 
saying,  "We  must  wait  till  One  shall  teach  us  our  duty 
towards  gods  and  men." 

Alcibiades  asks,  "When,  0  Socrates,  shall  that  time 
come,  and  who  will  be  the  Teacher  1  Most  happy  should 
I  be  to  see  this  man,  whoever  he  is."  The  Sage  replies, 
"He  is  One  who  is  concerned  for  thee.  He  feels  for  thee 
an  admirable  regard." 

When  one  reads  these  outreachings  for  an  unknown 
Saviour  in  the  noblest  minds  of  antiquity,  it  gives  pathos 
and  suggestive  power  to  that  emotion  which  our  Lord 
manifested  only  a  few  days  before  his  death,  when  word 


52  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

was  brought  him  that  there  were  certain  Greeks  desiring 
to  see  him.  When  the  message  was  brought  to  him  he 
answered  with  a  burst  of  exultation,  "The  hour  is  come 
that  the  Son  of  man  should  be  glorified !  Except  a  corn 
of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone, 
but  if  it  die  it  bririgeth  forth  much  fruit,  and  I,  if  I  be 
lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me !  " 

He  was  indeed  the  "  Teacher "  who  had  been  "  con- 
cerned "  for  Alcibiades,  who  had  cared  for  Socrates.  He 
was  the  "Charmer"  whom  Socrates  bade  his  disciples  seek 
above  all  things.  He  was  the  unknown  bringer  of  good 
for  whom  Virgil  longed.  He  was  the  "  Star  "  of  Balaam, 
the  "Benefactor"  of  the  Chaldee  astrologers,  the  "Sa- 
viour "  predicted  by  the  Persian  Zoroaster.  He  was,  it  is 
true,  the  Shepherd  of  Israel,  but  he  had  a  heart  for  the 
"  other  sheep  not  of  this  fold, "  who  were  scattered  through 
all  nations  of  the  earth.  He  belonged  not  to  any  nation, 
but  to  the  world,  and  hence  aptly  and  sublimely  did  the 
last  prophecy  proclaim,  "The  desire  of  all  nations  shall 
come ! " 

VII 

THE    HIDDEN    YEARS    OF    CHRIST 

ONE  great  argument  for  the  divine  origin  of  the  mission 
of  Jesus  is  its  utter  unlikeness  to  the  wisdom  and  ways  of 
this  world.  From  beginning  to  end,  it  ignored  and  went 
contrary  to  all  that  human  schemes  for  power  would  have 
advised. 

It  was  first  announced,  not  to  the  great  or  wise,  but  to 
the  poor  and  unlettered.  And  when  the  holy  child,  pre- 
dicted by  such  splendid  prophecies,  came  and  had  been 
adored  by  the  shepherds  and  magi,  had  been  presented  in 
the  temple  and  blessed  by  Simeon  and  Anna  —  what  then  1 


THE   HIDDEN   YEARS   OF   CHRIST  53 

Suddenly  he  disappears  from  view.  He  is  gone,  no  one 
knows  whither  —  hid  in  a  distant  land. 

In  time  the  parents  return  and  settle  in  an  obscure  vil- 
lage. Nobody  knows  them,  nobody  cares  for  them,  and  the 
child  grows  up  as  the  prophet  predicted,  "As  a  tender  plant, 
a  root  out  of  dry  ground ; "  the  lonely  lily  of  Nazareth. 

And  then  there  were  thirty  years  of  silence,  when 
nobody  thought  of  him  and  nobody  expected  anything 
from  him.  There  was  time  for  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth 
and  Simeon  and  Anna  to  die;  for  the  shepherds  to  cease 
talking  of  the  visions;  for  the  wise  ones  of  the  earth  to 
say,  "Oh,  as  to, that  child,  it  was  nothing  at  all!  He  is 
gone.  Nobody  knows  where  he  is.  You  see  it  has  all 
passed  by  —  a  mere  superstitious  excitement  of  a  few  cred- 
ulous people." 

And  during  these  hidden  years  what  was  Jesus  doing? 
We  have  no  record.  It  was  said  by  the  Apostle  that  "in 
all  respects  it  behooved  him  to  be  made  like  his  brethren." 
Before  the  full  splendor  of  his  divine  gifts  and  powers 
descended  upon  him,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  first 
live  an  average  life,  such  as  the  great  body  of  human 
beings  live.  For,  of  Christ  as  he  was  during  the  three 
years  of  his  public  life,  it  could  not  be  said  that  he  was  in 
all  respects  in  our  situation  or  experiencing  our  trials. 
He  had  unlimited  supernatural  power;  he  could  heal  the 
sick,  raise  the  dead,  hush  the  stormy  waters,  summon  at 
his  will  legions  of  angels.  A  being  of  such  power  could 
not  be  said  to  understand  exactly  the  feelings  of  our  limi- 
tations and  weaknesses.  But  those  years  of  power  were 
only  three  in  the  life  of  our  Lord;  for  thirty  years  he 
chose  to  live  the  life  of  an  obscure  human  being. 

Jesus  prepared  for  his  work  among  men  by  passing 
through  the  quiet  experience  of  a  workingman  in  the  lower 
orders.  The  tradition  of  the  church  is  that  Joseph,  being 
much  older  than  Mary,  died  while  Jesus  was  yet  young, 


54  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

and  thus  the  support  of  his  mother  devolved  upon  him. 
Overbeck  has  a  very  touching  picture  in  which  he  repre- 
sents Joseph  as  breathing  his  last  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus; 
it  is  a  sketch  full  of  tenderness  and  feeling. 

What  balance  of  mind,  what  reticence  and  self-control, 
what  peace  resulting  from  deep  and  settled  faith,  is  there 
in  this  history,  and  what  a  cooling  power  it  must  have  to 
the  hot  and  fevered  human  heart  that  burns  in  view  of  the 
much  that  is  to  be  done  to  bring  the  world  right! 

Nothing  was  ever  so  strange,  so  visionary,  to  all  human 
view  so  utterly  and  ridiculously  hopeless  of  success,  as  the 
task  that  Jesus  meditated  during  the  thirty  years  when  he 
was  quietly  busy  over  his  carpenter's  bench  in  Nazareth. 
Hundreds  of  years  before,  the  prophet  Daniel  saw,  in  a 
dream,  a  stone  cut  out  of  the  mountain  without  hands, 
growing  till  it  filled  the  earth.  Thus  the  ideal  kingdom 
of  Jesus  grew  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of  his  own  soul 
till  it  became  a  power  and  a  force  before  which  all  other 
forces  of  the  world  have  given  way.  The  Christian  reli- 
gion was  the  greatest  and  most  unprecedented  reform  ever 
introduced. 

In  the  present  age  of  the  world,  the  whole  movement 
and  uneasiness  and  convulsion  of  what  is  called  progress 
comes  from  the  effort  to  adjust  existing  society  to  the 
principles  laid  down  by  Jesus.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
was,  and  still  is,  the  most  disturbing  and  revolutionary 
document  in  the  world. 

This  being  the  case,  what  impresses  us  most  in  the 
character  of  Jesus,  as  a  reformer,  is  the  atmosphere  of 
peacefulness  that  surrounded  him,  and  in  which  he  seemed 
to  live  and  move  and  have  his  being. 

Human  beings  as  reformers  are  generally  agitated,  hur- 
ried, impatient.  Scarcely  are  the  spirits  of  the  prophets 
subject  to  the  prophets.  They  are  liable  to  run  before 
the  proper  time  and  season,  to  tear  open  the  bud  that 


THE   HIDDEN  YEARS   OF  CHRIST  55 

ought  to  unfold;  they  become  nervous,  irascible,  and  lose 
mental  and  physical  health:  and,  if  the  reform  on  which 
they  have  set  their  heart  fails,  they  are  overwhelmed  with 
discouragement  and  tempted  to  doubt  divine  Providence. 

Let  us  now  look  at  Jesus.  How  terrible  was  the  state 
of  the  world  at  the  time  when  he  began  to  reflect  upon  it 
in  his  unfolding  youth!  How  much  was  there  to  be 
done!  What  darkness,  cruelty,  oppression,  confusion! 
Yet  he,  knowing  that  that  was  the  work  of  reorganizing, 
showed  no  haste.  Thirty  years  was  by  Jewish  law  the 
appointed  time  at  which  a  religious  teacher  should  com- 
mence his  career.  Jesus  apparently  felt  no  impulse  to 
antedate  this  period;  one  incident  alone,  in  his  childhood, 
shows  him  carried  away  beyond  himself  by  the  divine 
ardor  which  filled  his  soul. 

Even  then,  his  answers  to  his  mother  showed  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  divine  and  wonderful  mission  such  as 
belonged  only  to  one  of  the  human  race,  and  it  is  imme- 
diately added,  "And  he  went  down  to  Nazareth  and  was 
subject  to  them."  Eighteen  years  now  passed  away  and 
nothing  was  known  of  the  enthusiastic  spirit.  When  he 
appears  in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth,  he  is  spoken  of 
simply  as  "the  carpenter."  "How  knoweth  this  man  let- 
ters ?  "  was  the  cry  of  his  townsmen. 

Nothing  shows  more  strongly  the  veiled  and  hidden 
and  perfectly  quiet  life  that  Jesus  had  been  leading  among 
them.  He  had  been  a  carpenter,  not  a  teacher.  The 
humble,  calm,  unobtrusive  life  of  a  good  mechanic,  who 
does  every  day's  duty  in  its  time  and  place,  is  not  a  thing 
that  calls  out  any  attention  in  a  community.  There  are 
many  followers  of  Jesus  in  this  world  who  are  living  the 
same  silent,  quiet  life,  who  would  not  be  missed  in  the 
great  world  if  they  were  gone,  who,  being  always  in  place 
and  time,  and  working  without  friction  or  jar,  come  to  be 
as  much  disregarded  as  the  daily  perfect  work  of  nature. 


56  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

The  life  of  Jesus  must  also  have  been  a  silent  one.  Of 
all  the  things  that  he  must  have  been  capable  of  saying  we 
find  not  one  recorded.  And  the  wonder  of  his  townsmen 
at  his  capacity  of  speech  shows  that  there  had  been  no 
words  spoken  by  him  before  to  accustom  them  to  it. 

In  our  Saviour's  public  career  we  are  surprised  at 
nothing  so  much  as  his  calmness.  He  was  never  in  haste. 
His  words  have  all  the  weight  of  deliberation,  and  the 
occasions  when  he  refrains  from  speech  are  fully  as  remark- 
able as  the  things  he  says. 

There  seems  to  be  about  him  none  of  the  wearying 
anxiety  as  to  immediate  results,  none  of  the  alternations 
of  hope  and  discouragement  that  mark  our  course.  He 
had  faith  in  God,  whose  great  plan  he  was  working, 
whose  message  he  came  to  deliver,  and  whose  times  and 
seasons  he  strictly  regarded.  So,  too,  did  he  regard  the 
mental  and  spiritual  condition  of  the  imperfect  ones  by 
whom  he  was  surrounded.  "I  have  many  things  to  say 
to  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now,"  he  said  even  to  his 
disciples.  When  their  zeal  transcended  his,  and  they 
longed  to  get  hold  of  the  thunderbolts  and  call  down  fire 
from  heaven,  his  grave  and  steady  rebuke  recalled  them: 
"Ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit  ye  are  of." 

We  see  his  disciples  excited,  ardent, —  now  coming  back 
with  triumph  to  tell  how  even  the  devils  were  subject  to 
them,  now  forbidding  one  to  cast  out  devils  because  he 
followed  not  them,  now  contending  who  should  be  great- 
est; and  among  them  sits  the  Master,  lowly,  thoughtful, 
tranquil,  with  the  little  child  on  his  knee,  or  bending  to 
wash  the  feet  of  a  disciple,  the  calmest,  sweetest,  least 
assuming  of  them  all. 

This  should  be  the  model  of  all  Christian  reformers. 
He  that  believeth  shall  not  make  haste  is  the  true  motto 
of  Christian  reform. 

And  these  great  multitudes,  to  whose  hands  no  special, 


THE  PKAYER-LIFE   OF  JESUS  57 

individual  power  is  given  —  they  are  only  minute  workers 
in  a  narrower  sphere.  Daily  toils,  small  economies,  the 
ordering  of  the  material  cares  of  life,  are  all  their  lot. 
Before  them  in  their  way  they  can  see  the  footsteps  of 
Jesus.  We  can  conceive  that  in  the  lowly  path  of  his  life 
all  his  works  were  perfect,  that  never  was  a  nail  driven 
or  a  line  laid  carelessly,  and  that  the  toil  of  that  carpen- 
ter's bench  was  as  sacred  to  him  as  his  teachings  in  the 
temple,  because  it  was  duty. 

Sometimes  there  is  a  sadness  and  discontent,  a  repressed 
eagerness  for  some  higher  sphere,  that  invades  the  minds 
of  humble  workers.  Let  them  look  unto  Jesus,  and  be 
content.  All  they  have  to  do  is  to  be  "faithful  over  a 
few  things/7  and  in  his  own  time  he  will  make  them 
"ruler  over  many  things." 

VIII 

THE    PRAYER-LIFE    OF    JESUS 

THE  Bible  presents  us  with  the  personality  of  a  magnifi- 
cent Being  —  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God  —  who,  being 
in  the  form  of  God  and  without  robbery  equal  with  God, 
emptied  himself  of  his  glory  and  took  upon  him  the  form 
of  a  servant;  and,  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  hum- 
bled himself  and  became  obedient  to  death  —  even  the 
death  of  the  cross. 

This  great  Being,  we  are  told,  entered  the  race  of  mor- 
tality, divested  of  those  advantages  which  came  from  his 
divine  origin,  and  assuming  all  those  disadvantages  of 
limitation  and  dependence  which  belong  to  human  beings. 
The  Apostle  says,  "It  behooved  him  in  all  respects  to  be 
made  like  unto  his  brethren."  His  lot  was  obedience  — 
dependence  upon  the  Father  —  and  he  gained  victories  by 
just  the  means  which  are  left  to  us  —  faith  and  prayer. 


58  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

Now,  there  are  many  good  people  whose  feeling  about 
prayer  is  something  like  this :  "  I  pray  because  I  am  com- 
manded to,  not  because  I  feel  a  special  need  or  find  a 
special  advantage  in  it.  In  my  view  we  are  to  use  our 
intellect  and  our  will  in  discovering  duties  and  overcoming 
temptations,  quite  sure  that  God  will,  of  course,  aid  those 
who  aid  themselves."  This  class  of  persons  look  upon  all 
protracted  seasons  of  prayer  and  periods  spent  in  devotion 
as  so  much  time  taken  from  the  active  duties  of  life.  A 
week  devoted  to  prayer,  a  convention  of  Christians  meeting 
to  spend  eight  or  ten  days  in  exercises  purely  devotional, 
would  strike  them  as  something  excessive  and  unnecessary, 
and  tending  to  fanaticism. 

If  ever  there  was  a  human  being  who  could  be  supposed 
able  to  meet  the  trials  of  life  and  overcome  its  temptations 
in  his  own  strength,  it  must  have  been  Jesus  Christ. 

But  his  example  stands  out  among  all  others,  and  he  is 
shown  to  us  as  peculiarly  a  man  of  prayer.  The  wonder- 
ful quietude  and  reticence  of  spirit  in  which  he  awaited 
the  call  of  his  Father  to  begin  his  great  work  has  already 
been  noticed.  He  waited  patiently,  living  for  thirty  years 
the  life  of  a  common  human  being  of  the  lower  grades  of 
society,  and  not  making  a  single  movement  to  display 
either  what  may  be  called  his  natural  gifts,  of  teaching, 
etc.,  or  those  divine  powers  which  were  his  birthright. 
Having  taken  the  place  of  a  servant,  as  a  servant  he 
waited  the  divine  call. 

When  that  call  came  he  consecrated  himself  to  his  great 
work  by  submitting  to  the  ordinance  of  baptism.  We  are 
told  that  as  he  went  up  from  the  waters  of  baptism,  pray- 
ing, the  heavens  were  opened  and  the  Holy  Ghost  de- 
scended upon  him,  and  a  voice  from  heaven  said,  "Thou 
art  my  beloved  Son,  in  thee  I  am  well  pleased." 

Might  we  not  think  that  now  the  man  Jesus  Christ 
would  feel  fully  prepared  to  begin  at  once  the  work  to 


THE   PRAYER-LIFE   OF   JESUS  59 

which  God  so  visibly  called  him?  But  no.  The  divine 
Spirit  within  him  led  to  a  still  farther  delay.  More  than 
a  month's  retreat  from  all  the  world's  scenes  and  ways, 
a  period  of  unbroken  solitude,  was  devoted  to  meditation 
and  prayer. 

If  Jesus  Christ  deemed  so  much  time  spent  in  prayer 
needful  to  his  work,  what  shall  we  say  of  ourselves? 
Feeble  and  earthly,  with  hearts  always  prone  to  go  astray, 
living  in  a  world  where  everything  presses  us  downward 
to  the  lower  regions  of  the  senses  and  passions,  how  can 
we  afford  to  neglect  that  higher  communion,  those  seasons 
of  divine  solitude,  which  were  thought  necessary  by  our 
Master?  It  was  in  those  many  days  devoted  entirely  to 
communion  with  God  that  he  gained  strength  to  resist  the 
temptations  of  Satan,  before  which  we  so  often  fall. 
Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  mode  and  manner  of  that 
mysterious  account  of  the  temptations  of  Christ,  it  is 
evident  that  they  were  met  and  overcome  by  the  spiritual 
force  gained  by  prayer  and  the  study  of  God's  word. 

But  it  was  not  merely  in  this  retirement  of  forty  days 
that  our  Lord  set  us  the  example  of  the  use  of  seasons  of 
religious  seclusion.  There  is  frequent  mention  made  in 
the  Gospels  of  his  retiring  for  purposes  of  secret  prayer. 
In  the  midst  of  the  popularity  and  success  that  attended 
his  first  beneficent  miracles,  we  are  told  by  St.  Mark  that, 
"rising  up  a  great  while  before  day,  he  went  out  into  a 
solitary  place  and  there  prayed."  His  disciples  went  to 
look  for  him,  and  found  him  in  his  retirement,  and 
brought  him  back  with  the  message,  "  All  men  are  seek- 
ing for  thee."  In  Luke  v.  16,  it  is  said:  "He  withdrew 
himself  into  the  wilderness  and  prayed ; "  and  on  another 
occasion  (Luke  iv.  42),  he  says:  "And  when  it  was  day, 
he  departed  and  went  into  a  desert  place."  Again,  when 
preparing  to  take  the  most  important  step  in  his  ministry, 
the  choice  of  his  twelve  Apostles,  we  read  in  Luke  vi.  12: 


GO  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

"And  it  came  to  pass  in  those  days  that  he  went  out  into 
a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all  night  in  prayer  to 
God;  and  when  it  was  day,  he  called  unto  him  his  disci- 
ples; and  of  them  he  chose  twelve,  whom  also  he  named 
apostles. " 

It  was  when  his  disciples  found  him  engaged  in  prayer, 
and  listened  for  a  little  while  to  his  devotions,  that  they 
addressed  to  him  the  petition,  "Lord,  teach  us  to  pray." 
Might  we  not  all,  in  view  of  his  example,  address  to  him 
the  same  prayer?  Surely  if  there  is  anything  in  which 
Christ's  professed  disciples  need  to  learn  of  him  it  is  in 
prayer. 

Not  only  in  example  but  in  teaching  did  he  exhort  to 
prayer.  "  Watch  and  pray "  were  words  so  often  upon 
his  lips  that  they  may  seem  to  be  indeed  the  watchwords 
of  our  faith.  He  bids  us  retire  to  our  closets  and  with 
closed  door  pray  to  our  Father  in  secret.  He  says  that 
men  "ought  always  to  pray  and  not  to  faint,"  though  the 
answer  be  delayed.  He  reasons  from  what  all  men  feel 
of  parental  longings  in  granting  the  requests  of  their  little 
children,  and  says,  "  If  ye,  being  evil,  are  so  ready  to  hear 
your  children,  how  much  more  ready  will  your  Father  in 
heaven  be  to  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him." 
Nay,  he  uses  a  remarkable  boldness  in  urging  us  to  be 
importunate  in  presenting  our  requests,  again  and  again, 
in  the  face  of  apparent  delay  and  denial.  He  shows  in- 
stances where  even  indifferent  or  unjust  people  are  over- 
come by  sheer  importunity,  and  intimates  how  much 
greater  must  be  the  power  of  importunity  —  urgent,  press- 
ing solicitation  —  on  a  Being  always  predisposed  to  bene- 
volence. 

By  all  these  methods  and  illustrations  our  Lord  incites 
us  to  follow  his  prayerful  example,  and  to  overcome,  as 
he  overcame,  by  prayer.  The  Christian  Church  felt  so 
greatly  the  need  of  definite  seasons  devoted  to  religious 


THE   PKAYER-LIFE   OF  JESUS  61 

retirement  that  there  grew  up  among  them  the  custom 
now  so  extensively  observed  in  Christendom,  of  devoting 
forty  days  in  every  year  to  a  special  retreat  from  the  things 
of  earth,  and  a  special  devotion  to  the  work  of  private  and 
public  prayer.  Like  all  customs,  even  those  originating 
in  deep  spiritual  influences,  this  is  too  apt  to  degenerate 
into  a  mere  form.  Many  associate  no  ideas  with  "fast- 
ing "  except  a  change  in  articles  of  food.  The  true  spirit- 
ual fasting,  which  consists  in  turning  our  eyes  and  hearts 
from  the  engrossing  cares  and  pleasures  of  earth  and  fixing 
them  on  things  divine,  is  lost  sight  of.  Our  "forty  days" 
are  not  like  our  Lord's,  given  to  prayer  and  the  study  of 
God's  Word.  Nothing  could  make  the  period  of  Lent 
so  much  of  a  reality  as  to  employ  it  in  a  systematic  effort 
to  fix  the  mind  on  Jesus.  The  history  in  the  Gospels  is  so 
well  worn  that  it  often  slips  through  the  head  without 
affecting  the  heart. 

But  if,  retiring  into  solitude  for  a  portion  of  each  day, 
we  should  select  some  one  scene  or  trait  or  incident  in  the 
life  of  Jesus,  and  with  all  the  helps  we  can  get  seek  to 
understand  it  fully,  tracing  it  in  the  other  evangelists, 
comparing  it  with  other  passages  of  Scripture,  etc.,  we 
should  find  ourselves  insensibly  interested,  and  might  hope 
that  in  this  effort  of  our  souls  to  understand  him,  Jesus 
himself  would  draw  near,  as  he  did  of  old  to  the  disciples 
on  the  way  to  Emmaus. 

This  looking  unto  Jesus  and  thinking  about  him  is  a 
better  way  to  meet  and  overcome  sin  than  any  physical 
austerities  or  spiritual  self-reproaches.  It  is  by  looking  at 
him,  the  Apostle  says,  "as  in  a  glass,"  that  we  are 
"changed  into  the  same  image,  as  from  glory  to  glory." 


62  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

IX 
THE    TEMPTATIONS    OP    JESUS 

INTIMATELY  connected  with  the  forty  days  of  solitude 
and  fasting  is  the  mysterious  story  of  the  Temptation. 

We  are  told  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  that  our 
Lord  was  exposed  to  a  peculiar  severity  of  trial  in  order 
that  he  might  understand  the  sufferings  and  wants  of  us 
feeble  human  beings.  "For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suf- 
fered, being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  those  who  are 
tempted."  We  are  to  understand,  then,  that  however 
divine  was  our  Lord's  nature  in  his  preexistent  state,  he 
chose  to  assume  our  weakness  and  our  limitations,  and  to 
meet  and  overcome  the  temptations  of  Satan  by  just  such 
means  as  are  left  to  us  —  by  faith  and  prayer  and  the 
study  of  God's  Word. 

There  are  many  theories  respecting  this  remarkable  his- 
tory of  the  temptation.  Some  suppose  the  Evil  Spirit  to 
have  assumed  a  visible  form,  and  to  have  been  appreciably 
present.  But  if  we  accept  the  statement  we  have  quoted 
from  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  that  our  Lord  was 
tempted  in  all  respects  as  we  are,  it  must  have  been  an 
invisible  and  spiritual  presence  with  which  he  contended. 
The  temptations  must  have  presented  themselves  to  him, 
as  to  us,  by  thoughts  injected  into  his  mind. 

It  seems  probable  that,  of  many  forms  of  temptation 
which  he  passed  through,  the  three  of  which  we  are  told 
are  selected  as  specimens,  and  if  we  notice  we  shall  see 
that  they  represent  certain  great  radical  sources  of  trial  to 
the  whole  human  race. 

First  comes  the  temptation  from  the  cravings  of  animal 
appetite.  Perhaps  hunger  —  the  want  of  food  and  the 
weakness  and  faintness  resulting  from  it  —  brings  more 


THE   TEMPTATIONS   OF   JESUS  63 

temptation  to  sin  than  any  other  one  cause.  To  supply 
animal  cravings  men  are  driven  to  theft  and  murder,  and 
women  to  prostitution.  The  more  fortunate  of  us,  who 
are  brought  up  in  competence  and  shielded  from  want, 
cannot  know  the  fierceness  of  this  temptation  —  its  driv- 
ing, maddening  power.  But  he  who  came  to  estimate  our 
trials,  and  to  help  the  race  of  man  in  their  temptations, 
chose  to  know  what  the  full  force  of  the  pangs  of  hunger 
were,  and  to  know  it  in  the  conscious  possession  of  miracu- 
lous power  which  could  at  any  moment  have  supplied 
them.  To  have  used  this  power  for  the  supply  of  his 
wants  would  have  been  at  once  to  abandon  that  very  con- 
dition of  trial  and  dependence  which  he  came  to  share 
with  us.  It  was  a  sacred  trust,  not  given  for  himself  but 
for  the  world.  It  was  the  very  work  he  undertook,  to 
bear  the  trials  which  his  brethren  bore  as  they  were  called 
to  bear  them,  with  only  such  helps  as  it  might  please  the 
Father  to  give  him  in  his  own  time  and  way. 

So  when  the  invisible  tempter  suggested  that  he  might 
at  once  relieve  this  pain  and  gratify  this  craving,  he 
answered  simply  that  there  was  a  higher  life  than  the 
animal,  and  that  man  could  be  upborne  by  faith  in  God 
even  under  the  pressure  of  utmost  want.  "Man  shall  not 
live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth 
out  of  the  mouth  of  God."  How  many  poor,  suffering 
followers  of  Christ,  called  to  forsake  the  means  of  liveli- 
hood for  conscience'  sake,  have  been  obliged  to  live  as 
Christ  did  on  the  simple  promise  of  God,  and  to  wait. 
Such  sufferers  may  feel  that  they  are  not  called  to  this 
trial  by  one  ignorant  of  its  nature  or  unsympathetic  with 
their  weakness.  And  the  same  consolation  applies  to  all 
who  struggle  with  the  lower  wants  of  our  nature  in  any 
form.  Christ's  pity  and  sympathy  are  for  them. 

All  who  struggle  with  animal  desires  in  any  form,  which 
duty  forbids  them  to  gratify,  may  remember  that  God  has 


64  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

given  them  an  Almighty  Saviour,  who,  having  suffered, 
is  able  to  succor  those  that  are  tempted. 

The  second  trial  was  no  less  universal.  It  was  the 
temptation  to  use  his  sacred  and  solemn  gifts  from  God 
for  purposes  of  personal  ostentation  and  display.  "Why 
not,"  suggests  the  tempter,  "descend  from  the  pinnacle  of 
the  temple  upborne  by  angels  1  How  striking  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  power  of  the  Son  of  God !  "  To  this  came  the 
grave  answer,  "Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God," 
—  by  needlessly  incurring  a  danger  which  would  make 
miraculous  deliverance  necessary. 

Is  no  one  in  our  day  put  to  this  test?  Is  not  the  young 
minister  at  God's  altar,  to  whom  is  given  eloquence  and 
power  over  the  souls  of  men,  in  danger  of  this  temptation 
to  theatric  exhibitions  —  ostentatious  display  of  self  —  this 
seeking  for  what  is  dramatic  and  striking,  rather  than 
what  is  for  God's  service  and  glory  ?  Whoever  is  intrusted 
with  power  of  any  kind  or  in  any  degree  is  tempted  to 
use  it  selfishly  rather  than  divinely.  To  all  such  the 
Lord's  temptation  and  resistance  of  it  gives  assurance  of 
help  if  help  be  sought. 

But  finally  came  the  last,  the  most  insidious  temptation, 
and  its  substance  seemed  to  be  this :  "  Why  not  use  these 
miraculous  gifts  to  make  a  worldly  party  ?  Why  not  flat- 
ter the  national  vanity  of  the  Jews,  excite  their  martial 
spirit,  lead  them  to  a  course  of  successful  revolt  against 
their  masters,  and  then  of  brilliant  conquest,  and  seize 
upon  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them  ? 
To  be  sure,  this  will  require  making  concession  here  and 
there  to  the  evil  passions  of  men,  but  when  the  supreme 
power  is  once  gained  all  shall  go  right.  WThy  this  long, 
slow  path  of  patience  and  self-denial  ?  Why  this  conflict 
with  the  world?  Why  the  cross  and  the  grave?  Why 
not  the  direct  road  of  power,  using  the  worldly  forces  first, 
and  afterwards  the  spiritual  ? "  This  seems  to  be  a  free 


THE   TEMPTATIONS   OF  JESUS  65 

version  of  all  that  is  included  in  the  proposition:  "All 
this  power  will  I  give  thee,  and  the  glory  of  it;  for  that 
is  delivered  unto  me  and  to  whomsoever  I  will  I  give  it. 
If,  therefore,  thou  wilt  worship  me  all  shall  be  thine. " 

The  indignant  answer  of  Jesus  shows  with  what  living 
energy  he  repelled  every  thought  of  the  least  concession  to 
evil,  the  least  advantage  to  be  gained  by  following  or 
allowing  the  corrupt  courses  of  this  world.  He  would  not 
natter  the  rich  and  influential.  He  would  not  conceal 
offensive  truth.  He  would  seek  the  society  of  the  poor 
and  despised.  He  taught  love  of  enemies  in  the  face  of 
a  nation  hating  their  enemies  and  longing  for  revenge. 
He  taught  forgiveness  and  prayer,  while  they  were  long- 
ing for  battle  and  conquest.  He  blessed  the  meek,  the 
sorrowful,  the  merciful,  the  persecuted  for  righteousness, 
instead  of  the  powerful  and  successful.  If  he  had  been 
willing  to  have  been  such  a  king  as  the  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees wanted  they  would  have  adored  him  and  fought  for 
him.  But  because  his  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world  they 
cried:  "Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas!"  It  is  said  that 
after  this  temptation  the  Devil  departed  from  him  "for 
a  .season. "  But  all  through  his  life,  in  one  form  or  an- 
other, that  temptation  must  have  been  suggested  to  him. 

When  he  told  his  Apostles  that  he  was  going  up  to 
Jerusalem  to  suffer  and  to  die,  Peter,  it  is  said,  rebuked 
him  with  earnestness:  "That  be  far  from  thee,  Lord;  such 
things  shall  not  happen  to  thee." 

Jesus  instantly  replies,  not  to  Peter,  but  to  the  Invisible 
Enemy  who  through  Peter's  affection  arid  ambition  is 
urging  the  worldly  and  self-seeking  course  upon  him: 
"  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,  thou  art  an  offence  unto  me. 
Thou  savorest  not  the  things  that  be  of  God  but  of  man." 

We  are  told  that  the  temptation  of  Christ  was  so  real 
that  he  suffered,  being  tempted.  He  knew  that  he  must 
disappoint  the  expectations  of  all  his  friends  who  had  set 


66  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTEK 

their  hearts  on  the  temporal  kingdom,  that  he  was  leading 
them  on  step  by  step  to  a  season  of  unutterable  darkness 
and  sorrow.  The  cross  was  bitter  to  him,  in  prospect  as 
in  reality,  but  never  for  a  moment  did  he  allow  himself  to 
swerve  from  it.  As  the  time  drew  near,  he  said,  "Now  is 
my  soul  troubled,  and  what  shall  I  say  ?  Father,  save  me 
from  this  hour?  But,  for  this  cause  came  I  unto  this 
hour ;  —  Father,  glorify  thy  name !  " 

Is  not  this  lifelong  temptation  which  Christ  overcame 
one  that  meets  us  all  every  day  and.  hour?  To  live  an 
unworldly  life ;  never  to  seek  place  or  power  or  wealth  by 
making  the  least  sacrifice  of  conscience  or  principle;  is  it 
easy  ?  is  it  common  ?  Yet  he  who  chose  rather  to  die  on 
the  cross  than  to  yield  in  the  slightest  degree  his  high 
spiritual  mission  can  feel  for  our  temptations  and  succor 
us  even  here. 

The  Apostle  speaks  of  life  as  a  race  set  before  us,  which 
we  are  to  win  by  laying  aside  every  impediment  and  look- 
ing steadfastly  unto  Jesus,  who,  "for  the  joy  that  was  set 
before  him,  endured  the  cross.'7  Our  victories  over  self 
are  to  be  gained  not  so  much  by  self-reproaches  and  self- 
conflicts  as  by  the  enthusiasm  of  looking  away  from  our- 
selves to  Him  who  has  overcome  for  us.  Our  Christ  is 
not  dead,  but  alive  f orevermore !  A  living  presence,  ever 
near  to  the  soul  that  seeks  salvation  from  sin.  And  to 
the  struggling  and  the  tempted  he  still  says,  "  Look  unto 
ME,  and  be  ye  saved." 

X 

OUR  LORD'S  BIBLE 

THE  life  of  Jesus,  regarded  from  a  mere  human  point 
of  view,  presents  an  astonishing  problem.  An  obscure 
man  in  an  obscure  province  has  revolutionized  the  world. 


OUR  LORD'S  BIBLE  67 

Every  letter  and  public  document  of  the  most  cultured 
nations  dates  from  his  birth,  as  a  new  era.  How  was  this 
man  educated?  We  find  he  had  no  access  to  the  Greek 
and  Roman  literature.  Jesus  was  emphatically  a  man  of 
one  book.  That  book  was  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  which 
we  call  the  Old  Testament.  The  Old  Testament  was  his 
Bible,  and  this  single  consideration  must  invest  it  with 
undying  interest  for  us. 

We  read  the  Bible  which  our  parents  read.  We  see, 
perhaps,  pencil-marks  here  and  there,  which  show  what 
they  loved  and  what  helped  and  comforted  them  in  the 
days  of  their  life-struggle,  and  the  Bible  is  dearer  to  us 
on  that  account.  Then,  going  backward  along  the  bright 
pathway  of  the  sainted  and  blessed  who  lived  in  former 
ages,  the  Bible  becomes  diviner  to  us  for  their  sake.  The 
Bible  of  the  Martyrs,  the  Bible  of  the  Waldenses,  the 
Bible  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  of  our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  has 
a  double  value. 

I  have  in  my  possession  a  very  ancient  black-letter 
edition  of  the  Bible  printed  in  1522,  more  than  three 
hundred  years  ago.  In  this  edition  many  of  the  Psalms 
have  been  read  and  re-read,  till  the  paper  is  almost  worn 
away.  Some  human  heart,  some  suffering  soul,  has  taken 
deep  comfort  here.  If  to  have  been  the  favorite,  intimate 
friend  of  the  greatest  number  of  hearts  be  an  ambition 
worthy  of  a  poet,  David  has  gained  a  loftier  place  than 
any  poet  who  ever  wrote.  He  has  lived  next  to  the  heart 
of  men,  and  women,  and  children,  of  all  ages,  in  all 
climes,  in  all  times  and  seasons,  all  over  the  earth.  They 
have  rejoiced  and  wept,  prayed  and  struggled,  lived  and 
died,  with  David's  words  in  their  mouths.  His  heart  has 
become  the  universal  Christian  heart,  and  will  ever  be,  till 
earth's  sorrows,  and  earth  itself,  are  a  vanished  dream. 

It  is  too  much  the  fashion  of  this  day  to  speak  slight- 
ingly of  the  Old  Testament.  Apart  from  its  grandeur,  its 


68  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

purity,  its  tenderness  and  majesty,  the  Old  Testament  has 
this  peculiar  interest  to  the  Christian,  —  it  was  the  Bible 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

As  a  man,  Jesus  had  a  human  life  to  live,  a  human 
experience  to  undergo.  For  thirty  silent  years  he  was 
known  among  men  only  as  a  carpenter  in  Nazareth,  and 
the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament  were  his  daily  com- 
panions. When  he  emerges  into  public  life,  we  find  him 
thoroughly  versed  in  the  Scriptures.  Allusions  to  them 
are  constant,  through  all  his  discourses;  he  continually 
refers  to  them  as  writings  that  reflect  his  own  image. 
"Search  the  Scriptures,"  he  says,  "for  they  are  they  that 
testify  of  me." 

The  Psalms  of  David  were  to  Jesus  all  and  more  than 
they  can  be  to  any  other  son  of  man. 

In  certain  of  them  he  saw  himself  and  his  future  life, 
his  trials,  conflicts,  sufferings,  resurrection,  and  final  tri- 
umph foreshadowed.  He  quoted  them  to  confound  his 
enemies.  When  they  sought  to  puzzle  him  with  perplex- 
ing questions  he  met  them  with  others  equally  difficult, 
drawn  from  the  Scriptures.  He  asks  them :  — 

"  What  think  ye  of  the  Messiah  ?  whose  son  is  he  ?  They  say 
unto  him,  the  Son  of  David.  He  saith  unto  them,  How  then 
doth  David  in  spirit  call  him  Lord,  saying,  The  Lord  said  unto 
my  Lord,  Sit  thou  on  my  right  hand  till  I  make  thine  enemies 
thy  footstool  ?  If  David  then  call  him  Lord,  how  is  he  his  son  ?  " 

So,  when  they  ask  the  question,  "Which  is  the  greatest 
commandment  of  all  ? "  he  answers  by  placing  together 
two  passages  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  one  commanding 
supreme  love  to  God  and  the  other  impartial  love  to  man's 
neighbor.  The  greatest  commandment  of  all  nowhere 
stands  in  the  Old  Testament  exactly  as  Jesus  quotes  it,  the 
first  part  being  found  in  Deuteronomy  vi.  5,  and  the  second 
in  Leviticus  xix.  18.  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  exhaustive 
manner  in  which  he  studied  and  used  the  Scriptures. 


OUR  LORD'S  BIBLE  69 

Our  Saviour  quotes  often  also  from  the  prophets.  In 
his  first  public  appearance  in  his  native  village  he  goes  into 
the  synagogue  and  reads  from  Isaiah.  When  they  ques- 
tion and  disbelieve,  he  answers  them  by  pointed  allusions 
to  the  stories  of  Naaman  the  Syrian  and  the  widow  of 
Sarepta.  When  the  Sadducees  raise  the  question  of  a 
future  life,  he  replies  by  quoting  from  the  Pentateuch  that 
God  calls  himself  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
and  God  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  the  God  of  the 
living,  for  all  are  alive  to  him.  He  cites  the  history  of 
Jonah  as  a  symbol  of  his  own  death  and  resurrection ;  and 
at  the  last  moment  of  his  trial  before  the  High  Priest, 
when  adjured  to  say  whether  he  be  the  Christ  or  not,  he 
replies  in  words  that  recall  the  sublime  predictions  in  the 
Book  of  Daniel  of  the  coming  of  Messiah  to  judgment. 
The  prophet  says :  — 

"  I  saw  in  my  vision,  and,  behold,  One  like  the  Son  of  man 
came  with  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  came  to  the  Ancient  of 
days ;  and  there  was  given  unto  him  dominion  and  glory  and 
a  kingdom,  that  all  people  and  nations  and  languages  should 
serve  him.  His  dominion  is  an  everlasting  dominion,  that 
shall  not  pass  away  or  be  destroyed." 

When  the  High  Priest  of  the  Jews  said  to  Jesus,  "I 
adjure  thee  by  the  living  God  that  thou  tell  us  whether 
thou  be  Messiah  or  not,"  he  answered,  "I  am;  and  here- 
after ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  man  sitting  on  the  right  hand 
of  power  and  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven." 

So  much  was  the  character  of  our  Lord's  teaching  col- 
ored and  impregnated  by  the  writings  of  the  Old  Testament 
that  it  is  impossible  fully  to  comprehend  Jesus  without  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  them.  To  study  the  life  of  Christ 
without  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  is  to  study  a  flower  without 
studying  the  plant  from  which  it  sprung,  the  root  and 
leaves  which  nourished  it.  He  continually  spoke  of  him- 
self as  a  Being  destined  to  fulfill  what  had  gone  before. 


70  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

"Think  not,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets.  I  am  not  come  to  destroy  but  to 
fulfill."  He  frequently  spoke  of  himself  as  of  the  order 
and  race  of  Jewish  prophets;  like  them  he  performed 
symbolic  acts  which  were  visible  prophecies,  as  when  he 
knew  his  nation  had  finally  rejected  him  he  signified  their 
doom  by  the  awful  sign  of  the  blasted  fig-tree.  Through 
all  the  last  days  of  Jesus,  as  his  death  approaches,  we  find 
continual  references  to  the  Old  Testament  prophecies,  and 
quotations  from  them. 

And  after  his  resurrection,  when  he  appears  to  his  dis- 
ciples, he  "  opens  to  them  the  Scriptures ; "  that  talk  on 
the  way  to'Ernmaus  was  an  explanation  of  the  prophecies, 
by  our  Lord  himself.  Would  that  it  had  been  recorded ! 
Would  not  our  hearts  too  have  "  burned  within  us ! " 

Now,  a  book  that  was  in  life  and  in  death  so  dear  to 
our  Lord,  a  book  which  he  interpreted  as  from  first  to  last 
a  preparation  for  and  prophecy  of  himself,  cannot  but  be 
full  of  interest  to  us  Christians.  When  we  read  the  Old 
Testament  Scriptures  we  go  along  a  track  that  we  know 
Jesus  and  his  mother  must  often  have  trod  together.  The 
great  resemblance  in  style  between  the  Song  of  Mary  and 
the  Psalms  of  David  is  one  of  the  few  indications  given  in 
Holy  Writ  of  the  veiled  and  holy  mystery  of  his  mother's 
life.  She  was  a  poetess,  a  prophetess,  one  whose  mind 
was  capable  of  the  highest  ecstasy  of  inspiration.  Let  us 
read  the  Psalms  again,  with  the  thought  in  our  mind  that 
they  were  the  comforters,  the  counselors  of  Jesus  and 
Mary.  What  was  so  much  to  them  cannot  be  indifferent 
to  us. 

Nor  did  the  disciples  and  Apostles  in  the  glow  of  the 
unfolding  dispensation  cease  to  reverence  and  value  those 
writings  so  closely  studied  by  their  Lord.  They  did  not 
speak  of  them  as  a  worn-out  thing,  that  had  "had  its 
day,"  but  they  alluded  to  them  with  the  affectionate  ven- 


CHRIST'S  FIRST  SERMON  71 

eration  due  to  divine  oracles.  "The  prophecy  came  not 
of  old  times  by  the  will  of  man,  but  holy  men  of  old  spake 
as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost.'7  St.  Paul  con- 
gratiilates  Timothy  that  "from  a  child  thou  hast  known 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make  thee  wise 
unto  salvation,"  and  adds:  "all  Scripture  is  given  by  in- 
spiration of  God,  and  is  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof, 
for  correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness,  that  the 
man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all 
good  works." 

Even  while  the  New  Testament  was  being  formed,  its 
writers  gave  this  complete  testimony  to  the  Old,  as  being 
able  to  make  men  "wise  unto  salvation,"  and  to  complete 
a  man's  spiritual  education.  This  book,  then,  so  dear  to 
Christ  and  his  Apostles,  is  something  that  should  be  dear 
to  all  Christians.  Its  study  will  enrich  the  soul.  It  is 
wonderful,  mysterious,  unique  —  there  is  no  sacred  book 
like  it  in  the  world;  and  in  reading  it  we  come  nearer  to 
Him  who  was  foretold  by  it,  and  who  when  he  came  upon 
the  earth  found  in  it  nourishment  for  his  soul,  instruction 
and  spiritual  refreshment  by  the  wayside,  comfort  even  in 
the  extreme  agonies  of  a  dreadful  death.  However  dear 
to  us  may  be  the  story  of  his  life  in  the  Gospels  and  his 
teachings  through  his  Apostles  and  their  Epistles,  let  us 
in  following  his  steps  forget  not  "  the  Scriptures "  which 
he  bade  us  search,  but  diligently  read  and  love  the  Bible 
of  our  Lord. 


XI 


THE  first  public  sermon  of  the  long-desired  Messiah  — 
his  first  declaration  of  his  mission  and  message  to  the  world 
—  what  was  it  ? 


72  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

It  was  delivered  in  his  own  city  of  Nazareth,  where  he 
had  been  brought  up ;  it  was  on  the  Sabbath  day ;  it  was 
in  the  synagogue  where  he  had  always  worshiped;  and  it 
was  in  manner  and  form  exactly  in  accordance  with  the 
customs  of  his  national  religion. 

It  had  always  been  customary  among  the  Jews  to  call 
upon  any  member  of  the  synagogue  to  read  a  passage  from 
the  book  of  the  prophets;  and  the  young  man  Jesus,  con- 
cerning whom  certain  rumors  had  vaguely  gone  forth,  was 
on  the  day  in  question  called  to  take  his  part  in  the  ser- 
vice. It  was  a  holy  and  solemn  moment,  when  the  long 
silence  of  years  was  to  be  broken.  Jesus  was  surrounded 
by  faces  familiar  from  infancy.  His  mother,  his  brothers, 
his  sisters,  were  all  there;  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him. 
The  historian  says :  — 

"And  there  was  delivered  unto  him  the  book  (or  roll)  of 
the  prophet  Isaiah,  and  when  he  had  unrolled  the  book  he  found 
the  place  where  it  is  written  (Isaiah  Ixi.)  :  — 

The  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me. 

He  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor ; 

He  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted ; 

To  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives ; 

The  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind ; 

To  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised ; 

To  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 

We  may  imagine  the  sweetness,  the  tenderness,  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  this  beautiful  announcement  of  his 
mission  was  uttered ;  and  when,  closing  the  book,  he  looked 
round  on  the  faces  of  his  townsmen  and  acquaintances,  and 
said,  "  This  day  is  this  scripture  fulfilled  in  your  ears, "  — 
it  was  an  appeal  of  Heavenly  love  yearning  to  heal  and  to 
save  those  nearest  and  longest  known. 

It  would  seem  that  the  sweet  voice,  the  graceful  manner, 
at  first  charmed  the  rough  audience;  there  was  a  thrilling, 
vibrating  power,  that  struck  upon  every  heart.  But  those 
hearts  were  cold  and  hard,  A  Saviour  from  sin,  a  Com- 


CHRIST'S  FIRST  SERMON  73 

forter  of  sorrow,  was  not  what  they  were  looking  for  in 
their  Messiah.  They  felt  themselves  good  enough  spirit- 
ually, in  their  observance  of  the  forms  of  their  law  and 
ritual;  they  were  stupidly  content  with  themselves  and 
wanted  no  comforter.  What  they  did  want  was  a  brilliant 
military  leader.  They  wanted  a  miracle-working,  super- 
natural Lord  and  Commander  that  should  revenge  their 
national  wrongs,  conquer  the  Romans,  and  set  the  Jewish 
people  at  the  head  of  the  world.  Having  heard  of  the 
miracles  of  Christ  in  Cana  and  Capernaum,  they  had 
thought  that  perhaps  he  might  prove  this  Leader,  and  if 
so,  what  a  glory  for  Nazareth !  But  they  were  in  a  critical, 
exacting  mood;  they  were  in  their  hearts  calling  for  some 
brilliant  and  striking  performance  that  should  illuminate 
and  draw  attention  to  their  town.  Although  the  congrega- 
tion were  at  first  impressed  and  charmed  with  the  gracious 
words  and  manner  of  the  speaker,  the  hard,  vulgar  spirit  of 
envy  and  carping  criticism  soon  overshadowed  their  faces. 

"Who  is  this  Jesus  —  is  he  not  the  carpenter1?  What 
sign  does  he  show  1  Let  him  work  some  miracles  forth- 
with, and  we  will  see  if  we  will  believe." 

It  was  this  disposition  which  our  Lord  felt  in  the  atmos- 
phere around  him;  the  language  of  souls  uttered  itself  to 
him  unspoken.  He  answered  as  he  so  often  did  to  the 
feeling  he  saw  in  the  hearts  rather  than  the  words  of  those 
around  him.  He  said,  "Ye  will  say  to  me,  Physician, 
heal  thyself.  Do  here  in  thy  native  place  the  marvels  we 
have  heard  of  in  Capernaum.  I  tell  you  a  truth;  no 
prophet  is  accepted  in  his  own  country.  There  were  many 
widows  in  Israel  in  the  time  of  the  prophet  Elijah,  but 
he  was  sent  only  to  a  widow  of  Sarepta,  a  city  of  Sidon. 
There  were  many  lepers  in  Israel  in  the  time  of  Elisha, 
yet  none  of  them  was  healed  but  Naaman  the  Syrian." 
It  would  seem  as  if  our  Lord  was  preparing  to  show  them 
that  he  had  a  mission  of  love  and  mercy  that  could  not  be 


74  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

bounded  by  one  village,  or  even  by  the  chosen  race  of 
Israel,  but  was  for  the  world. 

But  the  moment  he  spoke  of  favors  and  blessings  given 
to  the  Gentiles  the  fierce  national  spirit  flamed  up;  the 
speech  was  cut  short  by  a  tumultuous  uprising  of  the 
whole  synagogue.  They  laid  violent  hands  on  Jesus  and 
hurried  him  to  the  brow  of  the  precipice  on  which  their 
city  was  built,  to  cast  him  down  headlong.  But  before 
the  murder  was  consummated  the  calm  majesty  of  Jesus 
had  awed  his  persecutors.  Their  slackened  hands  dropped ; 
they  looked  one  on  another  irresolute:  and  he,  passing 
silently  through  the  midst  of  them,  went  his  way.  He 
had  offered  himself  to  them  as  their  Saviour  from  sin  and 
from  sorrow  in  the  very  fullness  of  his  heart.  Heavenly 
tenderness  and  sweetness  had  stretched  out  its  arms  to 
embrace  them,  and  been  repulsed  by  sneering  coldness  and 
hard,  worldly  unbelief. 

Nazareth  did  not  want  Him;  and  he  left  it.  It  was 
the  first  of  those  many  rejections  which  He  at  last  summed 
up  when  he  said,  "How  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
children,  and  ye  would  not." 

But,  though  he  thus  came  to  his  own  and  his  own 
received  him  not,  yet  the  lovely  and  gracious  proclamation 
which  he  made  then  and  there  still  stands  unfading  and 
beautiful  as  a  rainbow  of  hope  over  this  dark  earth.  The 
one  Being  sent  into  the  world  to  represent  the  Invisible 
Father,  and  to  show  us  the  hidden  heart  and  purposes  of 
God  in  this  mysterious  life  of  ours,  there  declared  that  his 
mission  was  one  of  pity,  of  help,  of  consolation;  that  the 
poor,  the  bruised,  the  desolate,  the  prisoner,  might  forever 
find  a  Friend  in  him. 

There  are  times  when  the  miseries  and  sorrows  of  the 
suffering  race  of  man,  the  groaning  and  travailing  of  this 
mysterious  life  of  gurs,  oppress  us,  and  our  faith  in  God's 
love  grows  faint, 


THE  FRIENDSHIPS   OF  JESUS  75 

Then  let  us  turn  our  thoughts  to  this  divine  Personal- 
ity, Jesus,  the  anointed  Son  of  God,  and  hear  him  saying 
now,  as  he  said  at  Nazareth :  — 

"  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  ME. 
He  hath  sent  me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor ; 
He  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted, 
To  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives, 
The  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind, 
To  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised ! " 

It  is  said  of  him  in  the  prophets:  "He  shall  not  fail 
nor  be  discouraged  till  he  have  set  judgment  in  the  earth. 
The  isles  shall  wait  for  his  law.  Our  Redeemer  is  mighty ; 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  his  name  —  our  Saviour,  the  Holy 
One  of  Israel !  " 


XII 

THE    FRIENDSHIPS    OF    JESUS 

IN  turning  our  thoughts  toward  various  scenes  of  our 
Lord's  life,  we  are  peculiarly  affected  with  the  human 
warmth  and  tenderness  of  his  personal  friendships.  The 
little  association  of  his  own  peculiar  friends  makes  a  picture 
that  we  need  to  study  to  understand  him. 

St.  John  touchingly  says:  "Now  when  the  time  was 
come  that  Jesus  should  depart  out  of  the  world  unto  the 
Father,  having  loved  his  own  which  were  in  the  world  he 
loved  them  unto  the  end."  When  we  think  that  all  that 
we  know  of  our  Lord  comes  through  these  friends  of  his 
—  the  witnesses  and  recorders  of  his  life  and  death  —  we 
shall  feel  more  -than  ever  what  he  has  made  them  to  us. 
Without  them  we  should  have  had  no  Jesus. 

Our  Lord,  with  all  that  he  is  to  us,  is  represented  to  us 
through  the  loving  hearts  and  affectionate  records  of  these 
his  chosen  ones.  It  is  amazing  to  think  of,  that  our  Lord 


7G  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

never  left  to  his  church  one  line  written  by  his  own  hand, 
and  that  all  his  words  come  to  us  transfused  through  the 
memories  of  his  friends.  How  much  to  us,  then,  were 
these  friendships  of  Jesus  —  how  dear  to  us,  for  all  eter- 
nity, these  friends! 

We  are  told  that  immediately  after  the  resurrection  there 
was  an  associated  church  of  one  hundred  and  twenty,  who 
are  characterized  by  Peter  as  "men  that  have  companied 
with  us  all  the  time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out 
among  us." 

The  account  of  how  these  friends  were  gathered  to  him 
becomes  deeply  interesting.  St.  John  relates  how,  one 
day,  John  the  Baptist  saw  Jesus  walking  by  the  Jordan 
in  silent  contemplation,  and  pointed  him  out  to  his  disci- 
ples: "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God."  And  the  two  disciples 
heard  him  speak  and  followed  Jesus.  Then  Jesus  turned 
and  said,  "What  seek  ye?"  They  said,  "Master,  where 
dwellest  thou?"  He  answered,  "Come  and  see."  ,  They 
came  and  saw  where  he  dwelt,  and  abode  with  him  that 
day.  We  learn  from  this  that  some  of  the  disciples  were 
those  whose  spiritual  nature  had  been  awakened  by  John 
the  Baptist,  and  who,  under  his  teaching,  were  devoting 
themselves  to  a  religious  life.  We  see  the  power  of  per- 
sonal attraction  possessed  by  our  Lord,  which  drew  these 
simple,  honest  natures  to  himself.  One  of  these  men  was 
Andrew,  the  brother  of  Simon  Peter,  and  he  immediately 
carried  the  glad  tidings  to  his  brother,  "We  have  found 
the  Messiah ; "  and  he  brought  him  to  Jesus.  Thus,  by 
a  sort  of  divine  attraction,  one  brother  and  friend  bringing 
another,  the  little  band  increased.  Some  were  more  dis- 
tinctly called  by  the  Master.  Matthew,  the  tax-gatherer, 
sitting  in  his  place  of  business,  heard  the  words,  "Follow 
me,"  and  immediately  rose  up,  and  left  all  and  followed 
him.  James  and  John  forsook  their  nets,  in  the  midst 
of  their  day's  labor,  to  follow  him.  In  time,  a  little 


THE   FRIENDSHIPS   OF   JESUS  77 

band  of  twelve  left  all  worldly  callings  and  home  ties, 
to  form  a  traveling  mission  family  of  which  Jesus  was 
the  head  and  father.  Others,  both  men  and  women,  at 
times  traveled  with  them  and  assisted  their  labors;  but 
these  twelve  were  the  central  figures. 

These  twelve  men  Jesus  took  to  nurture  and  educate  as 
the  expounders  of  the  Christian  religion  and  the  organizers 
of  the  church.  St.  John,  in  poetic  vision,  sees  the  church 
as  a  golden  city  descending  from  God  out  of  heaven,  hav- 
ing twelve  foundations,  and  in  them  the  names  of  these 
twelve  Apostles  of  the  Lamb.  This  plan  of  choosing  hon- 
est, simple-hearted,  devout  men,  and  revealing  himself  to 
the  world  through  their  human  nature  and  divinely  edu- 
cated conceptions,  had  in  it  something  peculiar  and  origi- 
nal. 

When  we  look  at  the  selection  made  by  Christ  of  these 
own  ones,  we  see  something  widely  different  from  all  the 
usual  methods  of  earthly  wisdom.  They  were  neither  the 
most  cultured  nor  the  most  influential  of  their  times.  The 
majority  of  them  appear  to  have  been  plain  workingmen, 
from  the  same  humble  class  in  which  Our  Lord  was  born. 
But  the  Judaean  peasant,  under  the  system  of  religious 
training  and  teaching  given  by  Moses,  was  no  stolid  or 
vulgar  character.  He  inherited  lofty  and  inspiring  tradi- 
tions, a  ritual  stimulating  to  the  spiritual  and  poetic 
nature,  a  system  of  ethical  morality  and  of  tenderness  to 
humanity  in  advance  of  the  whole  ancient  world.  A  good 
Jew  was  frequently  a  man  of  spiritualized  and  elevated 
devotion.  Supreme  love  to  God  and  habitual  love  and 
charity  to  man  were  the  essentials  of  his  religious  ideal. 
The  whole  system  of  divine  training  and  discipline  to 
which  the  Jewish  race  had  been  subjected  for  hundreds  of 
years  had  prepared  a  higher  moral  average  to  be  chosen 
from  than  could  have  been  found  in  any  other  nation. 

When  Jesus  began  to  preach,  it  was  the  best  and  purest 


78  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

men  that  most  deeply  sympathized  and  were  most  attracted, 
and  from  them  he  chose  his  intimate  circle  of  followers  — 
to  train  them  as  the  future  Apostles  of  his  religion. 

The  new  dispensation  that  Jesus  came  to  introduce  was 
something  as  yet  uncomprehended  on  earth.  It  was  a 
heavenly  ideal,  and  these  men  —  simple,  pure-hearted,  and 
devout  as  they  were  —  had  no  more  conception  of  it  than 
a  deaf  person  has  of  music.  It  was  a  new  manner  of  life, 
a  new  style  of  manhood,  that  was  to  constitute  this  king- 
dom of  Heaven.  It  was  no  outward  organization  —  no 
earthly  glory.  Man  was  to  learn  to  live,  not  by  force, 
not  by  ambition,  not  by  pleasure,  but  by  LOVE.  Man 
was  to  become  perfect  in  love  as  God  is,  so  that  loving 
and  serving  and  suffering  for  others  should  become  a  fash- 
ion and  habit  in  this  world,  where  ruling  and  domineering 
and  making  others  suffer  had  been  the  law.  And  Jesus 
took  into  his  family  twelve  men  to  prepare  them  to  be  the 
Apostles  of  this  idea.  His  mode  was  more  that  of  a  mother 
than  a  father.  He  strove  to  infuse  Himself  into  them  by 
an  embracing,  tender,  brooding  love;  ardent,  self-forgetful, 
delicate,  refined.  As  we  read  the  New  Testament  narra- 
tive of  the  walks  and  talks  of  Jesus  with  these  chosen 
ones,  their  restings  by  the  wayside,  their  family  conversa- 
tions at  evening,  when  he  sat  with  some  little  child  on  his 
knee,  when  he  listened  to  their  sayings,  reproved  their 
failings,  settled  their  difficulties  with  one  another,  we  can 
see  no  image  by  which  to  represent  the  Master  but  one  of 
those  loving,  saintly  mothers,  who,  in  leading  along  their 
little  flock,  follow  nearest  in  the  footsteps  of  Jesus. 

Jesus  trusted  more  to  personal  love,  in  forming  his 
church,  than  to  any  other  force.  The  power  of  love  in 
developing  the  intellect  and  exciting  the  faculties  is 
marked,  even  on  the  inferior  animals.  The  dog  is  changed 
by  tender  treatment  and  affectionate  care;  he  becomes  half 
human,  and  seems  to  struggle  to  rise  out  of  the  brute 


THE   FRIENDSHIPS   OF  JESUS  79 

nature  toward  a  beloved  master.  Eude  human  natures  are 
correspondingly  changed,  and  he  who  has  great  power  of 
loving  and  exciting  love  may  almost  create  anew  whom  he 
will. 

Jesus,  that  guest  from  brighter  worlds,  brought  to  this 
earth  the  nobler  ideas  of  love,  the  tenderness,  the  truth, 
the  magnanimity,  that  are  infinite  in  the  All-Loving. 
What  of  God  could  be  expressed  and  understood  by  man 
He  was,  and  St.  John  says  of  his  ethereal  gentleness  and 
sweetness  of  nature:  "The  light  shined  in  the  darkness 
and  the  darkness  comprehended  it  not." 

The  varieties  of  natural  character  in  this  family  of  Jesus 
were  such  as  to  give  most  of  the  usual  differences  of  human 
beings.  The  Master's  object  was  to  unite  them  to  each 
other  by  such  a  love  that  they  should  move  by  a  single 
impulse,  as  one  human  being,  and  that  what  was  lacking 
in  one  might  be  made  up  by  what  was  abundant  in  an- 
other. As  He  expressed  it  in  his  last  prayer:  "That  they 
all  may  be  one,  as  Thou,  Father,  art  in  me  and  I  in  Thee, 
that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us:  that  the  world  may 
believe  that  Thou  hast  sent  me." 

How  diverse  were  the  elements!  Simon  Peter,  self- 
confident,  enthusiastic,  prompt  to  speak  and  to  decide. 
Thomas,  slow  and  easily  disheartened;  always  deficient  in 
hope,  and  inclined  to  look  upon  the  dark  side,  yet  constant 
unto  death  in  his  affections.  James  and  John,  young  men 
of  the  better  class,  belonging  to  a  rich  family,  on  terms  of 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  High  Priest.  Of  these 
brothers,  John  is  the  idealist  and  the  poet  of  the  little 
band,  but  far  from  being  the  weak  and  effeminate  character 
painters  and  poets  have  generally  conceived.  James  and 
John  were  surnamed  Boanerges  —  "sons  of  thunder." 
They  were  the  ones  who  wanted  to  call  down  fire  on  the 
village  that  refused  to  receive  their  Lord.  It  was  they 
who  joined  in  the  petition  preferred  by  their  mother  for 


80  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

the  seat  of  honor  in  the  future  kingdom.  Young,  ardent, 
impetuous,  full  of  fire  and  of  that  susceptibility  to  ambi- 
tion which  belongs  to  high-strung  and  vivid  organizations, 
their  ardor  was  like  a  flame,  that  might  scorch  and  burn 
as  well  as  vivify.  Then  there  was  Matthew,  the  prosaic, 
the  exact  matter-of-fact  man,  whose  call  it  was  to  write 
what  critics  have  called  the  bodily  gospel  of  our  Lord's 
life,  as  it  was  that  of  John  to  present  the  inner  heart  of 
Jesus.  These  few  salient  instances  show  the  strong  and 
marked  diversities  of  temperament  and  character  which 
Jesus  proposed  to  unite  into  one  whole,  by  an  intense 
personal  love  which  should  melt  down  all  angles,  and 
soften  asperities,  and  weld  and  blend  the  most  discordant 
elements.  It  is  the  more  remarkable  that  he  undertook 
this  task  with  men  in  mature  life,  and  who  had  already 
been  settled  in  several  callings,  and  felt  the  strain  of  all 
those  causes  which  excite  the  individual  self-love  of  man. 

In  guiding  all  these,  we  can  but  admire  the  perfect  tol- 
erance of  the  Master  toward  the  wants  of  each  varying 
nature.  Tolerance  for  individual  character  is  about  the 
last  Christian  grace  that  comes  to  flower  in  family  or 
church.  Much  of  the  raspings,  and  gratings,  and  com- 
plaints in  family  and  church  are  from  the  habit  of  expect- 
ing and  exacting  that  people  should  be  what  they  never 
were  made  to  be.  Our  Lord  did  not  reprove  Thomas  for 
being  a  despondent  doubter,  beset  by  caution  even  when 
he  most  longed  to  believe.  He  graciously  granted  the 
extremest  test  which  his  hopeless  nature  required  —  he 
suffered  him  to  put  his  finger  in  the  print  of  the  nails  and 
to  examine  the  wounded  side;  and  there  is  but  a  tender 
shadow  of  a  reproof  in  what  he  said  —  "Thomas,  because 
thou  hast  seen  me,  thou  hast  believed;  blessed  are  they 
that  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed."  In  our  day 
there  are  many  disciples  of  Thomas,  loving  doubters,  who 
would  give  their  hearts'  blood  to  fully  believe  in  this  risen 


THE  FRIENDSHIPS   OF  JESUS  81 

Jesus;  they  would  willingly  put  their  hands  in  the  print 
of  the  nails;  and  for  them  the  Master  has  a  spiritual 
presence  and  a  convincing  nearness,  if  they  will  but  seek 
it.  So,  again,  we  notice  the  tender  indulgence  with 
which  the  self-confident  Peter  is  listened  to  as  he  always 
interposes  his  opinion.  We  think  we  can  see  the  Master 
listening  with  a  grave  smile,  as  a  mother  to  her  eldest  and 
most  self-confident  boy.  Sometimes  he  warmly  commends, 
and  sometimes  he  bears  down  on  him  with  a  sharpness  of 
rebuke  which  would  have  annihilated  a  softer  nature. 
When  Peter  officiously  counsels  worldly  expediency,  and 
the  avoidance  of  the  sufferings  for  which  Jesus  came,  the 
reply  is  sharp  as  lightning:  "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan; 
thou  art  an  offence  unto  me;  for  thou  savorest  not  the 
things  of  God,  but  those  that  be  of  man."  Yet  we  can 
see  that  the  Master  knows  his  man,  and  knows  just  how 
hard  to  strike.  That  eager,  combative,  self  -  confident 
nature  not  only  can  bear  sharp  treatment,  but  must  have 
it  at  times,  or  never  come  to  anything.  We  see  Peter's 
self-asserting  nature  spring  up  after  it,  cheerful  as  ever. 
He  yields  to  the  reproof;  but  he  is  Peter  still,  prompt 
with  his  opinion  at  the  next  turn  of  affairs,  and  the  Master 
would  not  for  the  world  have  him  anybody  else  but  Peter. 

We  see  also  that  it  was  a  manner  of  the  Master  to  deal 
with  the  conscience  of  his  children,  and  rebuke  their  faults 
without  exposing  them  to  the  censure  of  others.  When 
he  saw  that  the  sin  of  covetousness  was  growing  upon 
Judas,  leading  to  dishonesty,  he  combated  it  by  the  most 
searching  and  stringent  teaching.  "Beware  of  covetous- 
ness,  for  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  things  that  he 
possesseth ; "  this  and  other  passages,  which  will  be  more 
fully  considered  in  another  chapter,  would  seem  to  have 
been  all  warnings  to  Judas,  if  he  would  but  have  listened. 

So,  too,  his  tenderness  for  John,  whom  tradition  reports 
to  have  been  the  youngest  of  the  disciples,  marked  a  deli- 


82  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

cate  sense  of  character.  To  lean  on  his  bosom  was  not 
sought  by  Matthew  or  Thomas,  though  both  loved  him 
supremely ;  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  John,  —  as  in  a  family 
flock,  where  one,  the  youngest  and  tenderest,  is  always 
found  silently  near  the  mother;  the  others  smile  to  see 
him  always  there,  and  think  it  well.  There  are  in  St. 
John's  narrative  touches  of  that  silent  accord  between  him 
and  Jesus,  that  comprehension  without  words,  which  comes 
between  natures  strung  alike  to  sympathy.  To  him  Jesus 
commended  his  mother,  as  the  nearest  earthly  substitute 
for  himself.  Yet,  after  all,  when  for  this  one  so  dear,  so 
accordant  with  his  own  personal  feelings,  a  request  was 
made  for  station  and  honor  in  the  heavenly  kingdom,  he 
promptly  refused.  His  personal  affection  for  his  friends 
was  to  have  no  undue  influence  in  that  realm  of  things 
which  belonged  to  the  purely  divine  disposal.  "The 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you,"  he  taught;  and  John's 
place  in  the  spiritual  domain  must  depend  upon  John's 
own  spirit. 

There  is  one  trait  in  the  character  of  these  chosen  disci- 
ples of  Christ  which  is  worth  a  special  thought.  They 
were  not,  as  we  have  seen,  in  any  sense  remarkable  men 
intellectually,  but  they  had  one  preparation  for  the  work 
for  which  Jesus  chose  them  which  has  not  been  a  common 
one,  either  then  or  since.  They  were  wholly  consecrated 
to  God.  It  is  not  often  we  meet  with  men  capable  of  an 
entire  self-surrender;  these  men  were.  They  were  so  en- 
tirely devoted  to  God  that,  when  Jesus  called  on  them  to 
give  up  their  worldly  callings  and  forsake  all  they  had,  to 
follow  him,  they  obeyed  without  a  question  or  a  hesitating 
moment.  How  many  men  should  we  find  in  the  church 
now  that  would  do  the  same?  Christ  proposed  this  test 
to  one  young  ruler,  —  amiable,  reverent,  moral,  and  reli- 
gious, —  and  he  "went  away  sad."  He  could  do  a  great 
deal  for  God,  but  he  could  not  give  up  ALL.  Christ's 


CHRIST'S  UNWORLDLY  METHODS  83 

disciples  gave  ALL  to  him,  and  therefore  he  gave  ALL  to 
them.  Therefore  he  gave  them  to  share  his  throne  and 
his  glory.  The  Apocalyptic  vision  showed  graven  on  the 
foundations  of  the  golden  city  the  names  of  the  twelve 
Apostles  of  the  Lamb,  those  true-hearted  men  who  were 
not  only  to  be  the  founders  of  his  church  on  earth,  but 
were,  while  he  was  yet  in  the  flesh,  his  daily  companions, 
his  friends,  "his  own." 

XIII 

CHRIST'S  UNWORLDLY  METHODS 

WE  are  struck,  in  the  history  of  our  Lord,  with  the 
unworldliness  of  his  manner  of  living  his  daily  life  and 
fulfilling  his  great  commission.  It  is  emphatically  true, 
in  the  history  of  Jesus,  that  his  ways  are  not  as  our  ways, 
and  his  thoughts  as  our  thoughts.  He  did  not  choose  the 
disciples  of  his  first  ministry  as  worldly  wisdom  would 
have  chosen  them.  Though  men  of  good  and  honest  hearts, 
they  were  neither  the  most  cultured  nor  the  most  influen- 
tial of  his  nation.  We  should  have  said  that  men  of  the 
standing  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  or  Nicodemus  were  pre- 
ferable, other  things  being  equal,  to  Peter  the  fisherman  or 
Matthew  the  tax-gatherer;  but  Jesus  thought  otherwise. 

And,  furthermore,  he  sometimes  selected  those  appar- 
ently most  unlikely  to  further  his  ends.  Thus,  when  he 
had  a  mission  of  mercy  in  view  for  Samaria,  he  called  to 
the  work  a  woman;  not  such  as  we  should  suppose  a 
divine  teacher  would  choose,  —  not  a  preeminently  intel- 
lectual or  a  very  good  woman,  —  but,  on  the  contrary,  one 
of  a  careless  life,  and  loose  morals,  and  little  culture. 
The  history  of  this  person,  of  the  way  in  which  he  sought 
her  acquaintance,  arrested  her  attention,  gained  access  to 
her  heart,  and  made  of  her  a  missionary  to  draw  the  atten- 


84  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

tion  of  her  people  to  him,  is  wonderfully  given  by  St. 
John.  We  have  the  image  of  a  woman  —  such  as  many 
are,  social,  good-humored,  talkative,  and  utterly  without 
any  high  moral  sense  —  approaching  the  well,  where  she 
sees  this  weary  Jew  reclining  to  rest  himself.  He  intro- 
duces himself  to  her  acquaintance  by  asking  a  favor,  — 
the  readiest  way  to  open  the  heart  of  a  woman  of  that 
class.  She  is  evidently  surprised  that  he  will  speak  to 
her,  being  a  Jew,  and  she  a  daughter  of  a  despised  and 
hated  race.  "How  is  it,"  she  says,  "that  thou,  a  Jew, 
askest  drink  of  me,  a  woman  of  Samaria  ? "  Jesus  now 
answers  her  in  that  symbolic  and  poetic  strain  which  was 
familiar  with  him:  "If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God, 
and  who  this  is  that  asketh  drink  of  thee,  thou  wouldst 
ask  of  him,  and  he  would  give  thee  living  water."  The 
woman  sees  in  this  only  the  occasion  for  a  lively  rejoinder: 
"Sir,  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is 
deep ;  from  whence  then  hast  thou  that  living  water  1 " 
With  that  same  mysterious  air,  as  if  speaking  uncon- 
sciously from  out  some  higher  sphere,  he  answers,  "Who- 
soever drinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again;  but  who- 
soever shall  drink  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  shall  never 
thirst.  The  water  that  I  shall  give  shall  be  a  well  in  him 
springing  up  to  everlasting  life." 

Impressed  strangely  by  the  words  of  the  stranger,  she 
answers  confusedly,  "  Sir,  give  me  this  water,  that  I  thirst 
not,  neither  come  hither  to  draw."  There  is  a  feeble 
attempt  at  a  jest  struggling  with  the  awe  which  is  growing 
upon  her.  Jesus  now  touches  the  vital  spot  in  her  life. 
"Go,  call  thy  husband  and  come  hither."  She  said,  "I 
have  no  husband."  He  answers,  "Well  hast  thou  said  I 
have  no  husband;  thou  hast  had  five  husbands,  and  he 
thou  now  hast  is  not  thy  husband;  in  that  saidst  thou 
truly." 

The  stern,  grave  chastity  of  the  Jew,  his  reverence  for 


CHRIST'S  UNWORLDLY  METHODS  85 

marriage,  strike  coldly  on  the  light-minded  woman  accus- 
tomed to  the  easy  tolerance  of  a  low  state  of  society.  She 
is  abashed,  and  hastily  seeks  to  change  the  subject:  "Sir, 
I  see  thou  art  a  prophet ; "  and  then  she  introduces  the 
controverted  point  of  the  two  liturgies  and  temples  of 
Samaria  and  Jerusalem,  —  not  the  first  nor  the  last  was 
she  of  those  who  seek  relief  from  conscience  by  discussing 
doctrinal  dogmas.  Then,  to  our  astonishment,  Jesus  pro- 
ceeds to  declare  to  this  woman  of  light  mind  and  loose 
morality  the  sublime  doctrines  of  spiritual  worship,  to 
predict  the  new  era  which  is  dawning  on  the  world: 
"Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh  when  neither  in 
this  mountain  nor  yet  in  Jerusalem  shall  ye  worship  the 
Father.  The  hour  cometh  and  now  is  when  the  true 
worshipper  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth, 
for  the  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  him.  God  is  a 
Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him  must  worship  him  in 
spirit  and  in  truth."  Then,  in  a  sort  of  confused  awe  at 
his  earnestness,  the  woman  said,  "  I  know  that  Messiah 
shall  come,  and  when  he  is  come  he  will  tell  us  all  things. " 
Jesus  saith  unto  her,  "I  that  speak  unto  thee  am  he." 

At  this  moment  the  disciples  returned.  With  their 
national  prejudices,  it  was  very  astonishing,  as  they  drew 
nigh,  to  see  that  their  Master  was  in  close  and  earnest 
conversation  with  a  Samaritan  woman.  Nevertheless, 
when  the  higher  and  godlike  in  Jesus  was  fully  enkindled, 
the  light  and  fire  were  such  as  to  awe  them.  They  saw 
that  he  was  in  an  exalted  mood,  which  they  dared  not 
question.  All  the  infinite  love  of  the  Saviour,  the  shep- 
herd of  souls,  was  awaking  within  him;  the  soul  whom 
he  has  inspired  with  a  new  and  holy  calling  is  leaving  him 
on  a  mission  that  is  to  bring  crowds  to  his  love.  The  dis- 
ciples pray  him  to  eat,  but  he  is  no  longer  hungry,  no  longer 
thirsty,  no  longer  weary;  he  exults  in  the  gifts  that  he  is 
ready  to  give,  and  the  hearts  that  are  opening  to  receive. 


86  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

The  disciples  pray  him,  "Master,  eat."  He  said,  "I 
have  meat  to  eat  that  ye  know  not  of."  They  question 
in  an  undertone,  "Hath  any  one  brought  him  aught  to 
eat?  "  He  answers,  "My  meat  and  my  drink  is  to  do  the 
will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his  work."  Then, 
pointing  towards  the  city,  he  speaks  impassioned  words  of 
a  harvest  which  is  at  hand;  and  they  wonder. 

But  meanwhile  the  woman,  with  the  eagerness  and 
bright,  social  readiness  which  characterize  her,  is  calling 
to  her  townsmen,  "  Come,  see  a  man  that  told  me  all  that 
ever  I  did.  Is  not  this  the  Christ  ?  " 

What  followed  on  this  ?  A  crowd  press  out  to  see  the 
wonder.  Jesus  is  invited  as  an  honored  guest;  he  spends 
two  days  in  the  city,  and  gathers  a  band  of  disciples. 

After  the  resurrection  of  Jesus,  we  find  further  fruits 
of  the  harvest  sown  by  a  chance  interview  of  Jesus  with 
this  woman.  In  the  eighth  of  Acts  we  read  of  the  ingath- 
ering of  a  church  in  a  city  of  Samaria,  where  it  is  said  that 
"the  people,  with  one  accord,  gave  heed  to  the  things 
spoken  by  Philip,  and  there  was  great  joy  in  that  city." 

One  thing  in  this  story  impresses  us  strongly,  —  the 
power  which  Jesus  had  to  touch  the  divinest  capabilities 
in  the  unlikeliest  subjects.  He  struck  at  once  and  directly 
for  what  was  highest  and  noblest  in  souls  where  it  lay 
most  'hidden.  As  physician  of  souls  he  appealed  directly 
to  the  vital  moral  force,  and  it  acted  under  his  touch.  He 
saw  the  higher  nature  in  this  woman,  and  as  one  might 
draw  a  magnet  over  a  heap  of  rubbish  and  bring  out  pure 
metal,  so  he  from  this  careless,  light-minded,  good-natured, 
unprincipled  creature  brought  out  the  suppressed  and  hid- 
den yearning  for  a  better  and  higher  life.  She  had  no 
prejudices  to  keep,  no  station  to  preserve;  she  was  even 
to  her  own  low  moral  sense  consciously  a  sinner,  and  she 
was  ready  at  the  kind  and  powerful  appeal  to  leave  all  and 
follow  him. 


CHRIST   AND   THE   FALLEN   WOMAN  87 

We  have  no  further  history  of  her.  She  is  living  now 
somewhere;  but  wherever  she  may  be,  we  may  be  quite 
sure  she  never  has  forgotten  the  conversation  at  the  well 
in  Samaria,  and  the  man  who  "told  her  all  that  ever  she 
did." 


XIV 

CHRIST    AND    THE    FALLEN    WOMAN 

THE  absolute  divinity  of  Jesus,  the  height  at  which  he 
stood  above  all  men,  is  nowhere  so  shown  as  in  what  he 
dared  and  did  for  woman,  and  the  godlike  consciousness  of 
authority  with  which  he  did  it.  It  was  at  a  critical  period 
in  his  ministry,  when  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  in  keen 
inquiry,  when  many  of  the  respectable  classes  were  yet 
trembling  in  the  balance  whether  to  accept  his  claims  or 
not,  that  Jesus  in  the  calmest  and  most  majestic  manner 
took  the  ground  that  the  sins  of  a  fallen  woman  were  like 
any  other  sins,  and  that  repentant  love  entitled  to  equal 
forgiveness.  The  story  so  wonderful  can  be  told  only  in 
the  words  of  the  sacred  narrative :  — 

"  And  one  of  the  Pharisees  desired  him  that  he  would  eat 
with  him,  and  he  went  into  the  Pharisee's  house  and  sat  down 
to  meat.  And  behold  a  woman  in  that  city  which  was  a  sinner, 
when  she  knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the  Pharisee's  house, 
brought  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment,  and  stood  at  his  feet 
behind  him,  weeping,  and  began  to  wash  his  feet  with  tears, 
and  did  wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his 
feet  and  anointed  them  with  the  ointment.  Now  when  the 
Pharisee  which  had  bidden  him  saw  it,  he  spake  within  himself, 
saying,  This  man,  if  he  were  a  prophet,  would  have  known  who 
and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is,  for  she  is  a  sinner.  And 
Jesus  answering  said  unto  him,  Simon,  I  have  somewhat  to  say 
unto  thee.  He  said  unto  him,  Master,  say  on.  There  was  a 
certain  creditor  had  two  debtors ;  the  one  owed  him  five  hun- 
dred pence  and  the  other  fifty,  and  when  they  had  nothing  to 


88  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

pay  he  frankly  forgave  them  both.  Tell  me,  therefore,  which 
will  love  him  most.  Simon  answered  and  said,  I  suppose  he 
to  whom  he  forgave  most.  And  he  said  unto  him,  Thou  hast 
rightly  judged.  And  he  turned  to  the  woman  and  said  unto 
Simon,  Seest  thou  this  woman  ?  I  entered  into  thy  house  and 
thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet,  but  she  hath  washed  my 
feet  with  tears  and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head. 
Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss,  but  this  woman,  since  the  time  I 
came  in,  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet.  My  head  with  oil 
thou  didst  not  anoint,  but  she  hath  anointed  my  feet  with 
ointment.  Wherefore,  I  say  unto  you,  her  sins,  which  are 
many,  are  forgiven  her,  for  she  loved  much  ;  but  to  whom  little 
is  forgiven  the  same  loveth  little.  And  he  said  unto  her,  Thy 
sins  are  forgiven.  And  they  that  sat  at  meat  began  to  say 
within  themselves,  Who  is  this  that  f orgiveth  sins  also  ?  And 
he  said  to  the  woman,  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee  ;  go  in  peace." 

Nothing  can  be  added  to  the  pathos  and  solemn  dignity 
of  this  story,  in  which  our  Lord  assumed  with  tranquil 
majesty  the  rights  to  supreme  love  possessed  by  the  Crea- 
tor, and  his  sovereign  power  to  forgive  sins  and  dispense 
favors.  The  repentant  Magdalene  became  henceforth  one 
of  the  characteristic  figures  in  the  history  of  the  Christian 
Church.  Mary  Magdalene  became  eventually  a  prominent 
character  in  the  mythic  legends  of  the  mediaeval  mytho- 
logy. A  long  history  of  missionary  labors  and  enthusiastic 
preaching  of  the  gospel  in  distant  regions  of  the  earth  is 
ascribed  to  her.  Churches  arose  that  bore  her  name, 
hymns  were  addressed  to  her.  Even  the  reforming  Savo- 
narola addresses  one  of  his  spiritual  canticles  to  St.  Mary 
Magdalene.  The  various  pictures  of  her  which  occur  in 
every  part  of  Europe  are  a  proof  of  the  interest  which 
these  legends  inspired.  The  most  of  them  are  wild  and 
poetic,  and  exhibit  a  striking  contrast  to  the  concise  bre- 
vity and  simplicity  of  the  New  Testament  story. 

The  mythic  legends  make  up  a  romance  in  which  Mary 
the  sister  of  Martha  and  Mary  Magdalene  the  sinner  are 
oddly  considered  as  the  same  person.  It  is  sufficient  to 


CHRIST    AND   THE   FALLEN   WOMAN  89 

read  the  chapter  in  St.  John  which  gives  an  account  of 
the  raising  of  Lazarus,  to  perceive  that  such  a  confusion 
is  absurd.  Mary  and  Martha  there  appear  as  belonging  to 
a  family  in  good  standing  to  which  many  flocked  with 
expressions  of  condolence  and  respect  in  time  of  affliction. 
And  afterwards,  in  that  grateful  feast  made  for  the  restora- 
tion of  their  brother,  we  read  that  so  many  flocked  to  the 
house  that  the  jealousy  of  the  chief  priests  was  excited. 
All  these  incidents,  representing  a  family  of  respectability, 
are  entirely  inconsistent  with  any  such  supposition.  But 
while  we  repudiate  this  extravagance  of  the  tradition,  there 
does  seem  ground  for  identifying  the  Mary  Magdalene 
who  was  one  of  the  most  devoted  followers  of  our  Lord 
with  the  forgiven  sinner  of  this  narrative.  We  read  of 
a  company  of  women  who  followed  Jesus  and  ministered 
to  him.  In  the  eighth  chapter  of  Luke  he  is  said  to  be 
accompanied  by  "certain  women  which  had  been  healed 
of  evil  spirits  and  infirmities,"  among  whom  is  mentioned 
"Mary  called  Magdalene,"  as  having  been  a  victim  of 
demoniacal  possession.  Some  women  of  rank  and  fortune 
also  are  mentioned  as  members  of  the  same  company: 
"Joanna  the  wife  of  Chusa,  Herod's  steward,  and  Susanna, 
and  many  others  who  ministered  to  him  of  their  substance. " 
A  modern  commentator  thinks  it  improbable  that  Mary 
Magdalene  could  be  identified  with  the  "sinner"  spoken 
of  by  St.  Luke,  because  women  of  standing  like  Joanna 
and  Susanna  would  not  have  received  one  of  her  class  to 
their  company.  We  ask  why  not  ?  If  Jesus  had  received 
her,  had  forgiven  and  saved  her;  if  lie  acknowledged  pre- 
viously her  grateful  ministrations,  —  is  it  likely  that  they 
would  reject  her?  It  was  the  very  peculiarity  and  glory 
of  the  new  kingdom  that  it  had  a  better  future  for  sinners, 
and  for  sinful  woman  as  well  as  sinful  man.  Jesus  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  to  the  proud  and  prejudiced  religious 
aristocracy  of  his  day,  "  The  publicans  and  harlots  go  into 


90  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  you."  We  cannot  doubt 
that  the  loving  Christian  women  who  ministered  to  Jesus 
received  this  penitent  sister  as  a  soul  absolved  and  purified 
by  the  sovereign  word  of  their  Lord,  and  henceforth  there 
was  for  her  a  full  scope  for  that  ardent,  self-devoting 
power  of  her  nature  which  had  been  her  ruin,  and  was  now 
to  become  her  salvation. 

Some  commentators  seem  to  think  that  the  dreadful 
demoniacal  possession  which  was  spoken  of  in  Mary  Mag- 
dalene proves  her  not  to  have  been  identical  with  the 
woman  of  St.  Luke.  But,  on  the  contrary,  it  would  seem 
exactly  to  account  for  actions  of  a  strange  and  unaccount- 
able wickedness,  for  a  notoriety  in  crime  that  went  far  to 
lead  the  Pharisees  to  feel  that  her  very  touch  was  pollu- 
tion. The  story  is  symbolic  of  what  is  too  often  seen 
in  the  fall  of  woman.  A  noble  and  beautiful  nature 
wrecked  through  inconsiderate  prodigality  of  love,  deceived, 
betrayed,  ruined,  often  drifts  like  a  shipwrecked  bark  into 
the  power  of  evil  spirits.  Rage,  despair,  revenge,  cruelty, 
take  possession  of  the  crushed  ruin  that  should  have  been 
the  home  of  the  sweetest  affections.  We  are  not  told  when 
or  where  the  healing  word  was  spoken  that  drove  the  cruel 
fiends  from  Mary's  soul.  Perhaps  before  she  entered  the 
halls  of  the  Pharisee,  while  listening  to  the  preaching  of 
Jesus,  the  madness  and  despair  had  left  her.  We  can 
believe  that  in  his  higher  moods  virtue  went  from  him, 
and  there  was  around  him  a  holy  and  cleansing  atmosphere 
from  which  all  evil  fled  away,  —  a  serene  and  healing 
purity  which  calmed  the  throbbing  fever  of  passion  and 
gave  the  soul  once  more  the  image  of  its  better  self. 

We  see  in  the  manner  in  which  Mary  found  her  way 
to  the  feet  of  Jesus  the  directness  and  vehemence,  the  un- 
calculating  self-sacrifice  and  self-abandon,  of  one  of  those 
natures  which,  when  they  move,  move  with  a  rush  of  un- 
divided impulse;  which,  when  they  love,  trust  all,  believe 


CHRIST   AND   THE   FALLEN   WOMAN  91 

all,  and  are  ready  to  sacrifice  all.  As  once  she  had  lost 
herself  in  this  self-abandonment,  so  now  at  the  feet  of  her 
God  she  gains  all  by  the  same  power  of  self-surrender. 

We  do  not  meet  Mary  Magdalene  again  till  we  find 
her  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  sharing  the  last  anguish  of  our 
Lord  and  his  mother.  We  find  her  watching  the  sepul- 
chre, preparing  sweet  spices  for  embalming.  In  the  dim 
gray  of  the  resurrection  morning  she  is  there  again,  only 
to  find  the  sepulchre  open  and  the  beloved  form  gone. 
Everything  in  this  last  scene  is  in  consistency  with  the 
idea  of  the  passionate  self-devotion  of  a  nature  whose  sole 
life  is  in  its  love.  The  disciples,  when  they  found  not  the 
body,  went  away;  but  Mary  stood  without  at  the  sepul- 
chre weeping,  and  as  she  wept  she  stooped  down  and  looked 
into  the  sepulchre.  The  angel  said  to  her,  "  Woman,  why 
weepest  thou?  She  answered,  Because  they  have  taken 
away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid 
him."  She  then  turns  and  sees  through  her  tears  dimly 
the  form  of  a  man  standing  there.  "Jesus  saith  unto  her, 
Woman,  why  weepest  thou?  whom  seekest  thou?  She, 
supposing  him  to  be  the  gardener,  saith  unto  him,  Sir,  if 
thou  have  borne  him  hence,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid 
him,  and  I  will  go  and  take  him  away.  Jesus  saith  unto 
her,  Mary !  She  turned  herself  and  said  unto  him,  Rab- 
boni,  —  Master !  " 

In  all  this  we  see  the  characteristic  devotion  and  energy 
of  her  who  loved  much  because  she  was  forgiven  much. 
It  was  the  peculiarity  of  Jesus  that  he  saw  the  precious 
capability  of  every  nature,  even  in  the  very  dust  of  defile- 
ment. The  power  of  devoted  love  is  the  crown  jewel  of 
the  soul,  and  Jesus  had  the  eye  to  see  where  it  lay  tram- 
pled in  the  mire,  and  the  strong  hand  to  bring  it  forth 
purified  and  brightened.  It  is  the  deepest  malignity  of 
Satan  to  degrade  and  ruin  souls  through  love.  It  is  the 
glory  of  Christ,  through  love,  to  redeem  and  restore. 


92  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

In  the  history  of  Christ  as  a  teacher,  it  is  remarkable 
that,  while  he  was  an  object  of  enthusiastic  devotion  to 
so  many  women,  while  a  band  of  them  followed  his  preach- 
ing and  ministered  to  his  wants  and  those  of  his  disciples, 
yet  there  was  about  him  something  so  entirely  unworldly, 
so  sacredly  high  and  pure,  that  even  the  very  suggestion 
of  scandal  in  this  regard  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  bitterest 
vituperations  of  his  enemies  of  the  first  two  centuries. 

If  we  compare  Jesus  with  Socrates,  the  moral  teacher 
most  frequently  spoken  of  as  approaching  him,  we  shall 
see  a  wonderful  contrast.  Socrates  associated  with  cour- 
tesans, without  passion  and  without  reproof,  in  a  spirit  of 
half-sarcastic,  philosophic  tolerance.  No  quickening  of 
the  soul  of  woman,  no  call  to  a  higher  life,  came  from 
him.  Jesus  is  stern  and  grave  in  his  teachings  of  personal 
purity,  severe  in  his  requirements.  He  was  as  intolerant 
to  sin  as  he  was  merciful  to  penitence.  He  did  not  exten- 
uate the  sins  he  forgave.  He  declared  the  sins  of  Mary 
to  be  many  in  the  same  breath  that  he  pronounced  her 
pardon.  He  said  to  the  adulterous  woman  whom  he  pro- 
tected, "Go,  sin  no  more."  The  penitents  who  joined 
the  company  of  his  disciples  were  so  raised  above  their 
former  selves,  that,  instead  of  being  the  shame,  they  were 
the  glory  of  the  new  kingdom.  St.  Paul  says  to  the  first 
Christians,  speaking  of  the  adulterous  and  impure,  "Such 
were  some  of  you,  but  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified, 
but  ye  are  justified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by 
the  Spirit  of  God." 

The  tradition  of  the  church  that  Mary  Magdalene  was 
an  enthusiastic  preacher  of  Jesus  seems  in  keeping  with 
all  we  know  of  the  strength  and  fervor  of  her  character. 
Such  love  must  find  expression,  and  we  are  told  that  when 
the  first  persecution  scattered  the  little  church  at  Jerusa- 
lem, "they  that  were  scattered  went  everywhere,  preaching 
the  word."  Some  of  the  most  effective  preaching  of  Christ 


CHRIST   AND   THE   FALLEN   WOMAN  93 

is  that  of  those  who  testify  in  their  own  person  of  a  great 
salvation.  "He  can  save  to  the  uttermost,  for  he  has 
saved  ME,"  is  a  testimony  that  often  goes  more  straight  to 
the  heart  than  all  the  arguments  of  learning.  Christianity 
had  this  peculiarity  over  all  other  systems,  that  it  not 
only  forgave  the  past,  but  made  of  its  bitter  experiences 
a  healing  medicine;  so  that  those  wrho  had  sinned  deepest 
might  have  therefrom  a  greater  redeeming  power.  "When 
thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren,"  was  the 
watchword  of  the  penitent. 

The  wonderful  mind  of  Goethe  has  seized  upon  and 
embodied  this  peculiarity  of  Christianity  in  his  great  poem 
of  "Faust."  The  first  part  shows  the  Devil  making  of  the 
sweetest  and  noblest  affection  of  the  confiding  Margaret 
a  cruel  poison  to  corrupt  both  body  and  soul.  We  see  her 
driven  to  crime,  remorse,  shame,  despair,  all  human  forms 
and  forces  of  society  united  to  condemn  her,  when  with 
a  last  cry  she  stretches  her  poor  hands  to  heaven  and  says, 
"Judgment  of  God,  I  commend  myself  to  you;"  and 
then  falls  a  voice  from  heaven,  "She  is  judged;  she  is 
saved. " 

In  the  second  part  we  see  the  world- worn,  weary  Faust 
passing  through  the  classic  mythology,  vainly  seeking  rest 
and  finding  none ;  he  seeks  rest  in  a  life  of  benevolence  to 
man,  but  fiends  of  darkness  conflict  with  his  best  aspira- 
tions, and  dog  his  steps  through  life,  and  in  his  dying 
hour  gather  round  to  seize  his  soul  and  carry  it  to  perdi- 
tion. But  around  him  is  a  shining  band.  Mary  the 
mother  of  Jesus  with  a  company  of  purified  penitents 
encircle  him,  and  his  soul  passes,  in  infantine  weakness, 
to  the  guardian  arms  of  Margaret,  —  once  a  lost  and  ruined 
woman,  now  a  strong  and  pitiful  angel,  —  who,  like  a 
tender  mother,  leads  the  new-born  soul  to  look  upon  the 
glories  of  heaven,  while  angel  voices  sing  to  the  victory  of 
good  over  evil:  — 


94  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTEK 

"  All  that  is  transient 
Is  but  a  parable  ; 
The  unattainable 
Here  is  made  real. 
The  indescribable 
Here  is  accomplished ; 
The  eternal  womanly 
Draws  us  upward  and  onward." 


XV 

THE    REVEALER    OF    GOD^S    SYMPATHY 

THE  interest  inspired  by  the  wonderful  character  of 
Jesus  rests  especially  on  those  incidents  which  are  most 
purely  human,  his  private,  personal  friendships,  his  keen 
sympathy  with  the  suffering  and  the  afflicted.  Among 
these  incidents  the  story  and  characters  of  the  two  sisters, 
Martha  and  Mary,  have  been  set  before  us  with  a  fine 
individualism  of  dramatic  representation  that  seems  to 
make  them  real  to  us,  even  at  this  distance  of  time. 

The  two  sisters  of  Bethany  have  had  for  ages  a  name 
and  a  living  power  in  the  church.  Thousands  of  hearts 
have  throbbed  with  theirs;  thousands  have  wept  sympa- 
thetic tears  in  their  sorrows  and  rejoiced  in  their  joy.  By 
a  few  simple  touches  in  the  narrative  they  are  so  delicately 
and  justly  discriminated  that  they  stand  for  the  representa- 
tives of  two  distinct  classes.  Some  of  the  ancient  Chris- 
tian writers  considered  them  as  types  of  the  active  and  the 
contemplative  aspects  of  religion.  Martha  is  viewed  as 
the  secular  Christian,  serving  God  in  and  through  the 
channels  of  worldly  business,  and  Mary  as  the  more  pecu- 
liarly religious  person,  devoted  to  a  life  of  holy  meditation 
and  the  researches  of  heavenly  truth.  The  two  were 
equally  the  friends  of  Jesus.  Apparently,  the  two  sisters 
with  one  brother  were  an  orphan  family,  united  by  the 


THE  REVEALER  OF  GOD'S  SYMPATHY       95 

strongest  mutual  affection,  and  affording  a  circle  peculiarly 
congenial  to  the  Master. 

They  inhabited  a  rural  home  just  outside  of  Jerusalem ; 
and  it  seems  that  here,  after  the  labors  of  a  day  spent  in 
teaching  in  the  city,  our  Lord  found  at  evening  a  home- 
like retreat  where  he  could  enjoy  perfect  quiet  and  perfect 
love.  It  would  seem,  from  many  touches  in  the  Gospel 
narrative,  as  if  Jesus,  amid  the  labors  and  applauses  and 
successes  of  a  public  life,  yearned  for  privacy  and  domes- 
ticity, —  for  that  home  love  which  he  persistently  re- 
nounced to  give  himself  wholly  to  mankind.  There  is 
a  shade  of  pathos  in  his  answer  to  one  who  proposed  to  be 
his  disciple  and  dwell  with  him:  "Foxes  have  holes;  the 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests ;  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not 
where  to  lay  his  head."  This  little  orphan  circle,  with 
their  quiet  home,  were  thus  especially  dear  to  him,  and  it 
appears  that  this  was  his  refuge  during  that  last  week  of 
his  life,  when  he  knew  that  every  day  was  bringing  him 
nearer  to  the  final  anguish. 

It  is  wonderful  how  sharply  and  truly,  in  a  narrative  so 
brief,  the  characters  of  Martha  and  Mary  are  individual- 
ized. Martha,  in  her  Judaean  dress  and  surroundings,  is, 
after  all,  exactly  such  a  good  woman  as  is  often  seen  in 
our  modern  life,  —  a  woman  primarily  endowed  with  the 
faculties  necessary  for  getting  on  in  the  world,  yet  sincerely 
religious.  She  is  energetic,  businesslike,  matter-of-fact, 
strictly  orthodox,  and  always  ready  for  every  emergency. 
She  lives  in  the  present  life  strongly  and  intensely,  and 
her  religion  exhibits  itself  through  regular  forms  and  agen- 
cies. She  believes  in  the  future  life  orthodoxly,  and  is 
always  prompt  to  confess  its  superior  importance  as  a 
matter  of  doctrine,  though  prone  to  make  material  things 
the  first  in  practice.  Many  such  women  there  are.  in  the 
high  places  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  much  good  they 
do.  They  manage  fairs,  they  dress  churches,  they  get  up 


96  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

religious  festivals,  their  names  are  on  committees,  they  are 
known  at  celebrations.  They  rule  their  own  homes  with 
activity  and  diligence,  and  they  are  justly  honored  by  all 
who  know  them.  Now,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  in 
the  history  of  Jesus  than  the  catholicity  of  his  appreciation 
of  character.  He  never  found  fault  with  natural  organiza- 
tion, or  expected  all  people  to  be  of  one  pattern.  He  did 
not  break  with  Thomas  for  being  naturally  a  cautious 
doubter,  or  Peter  for  being  a  precipitate  believer;  and  it 
is  specially  recorded  in  the  history  of  this  family  that 
Jesus  loved  Martha.  He  understood  her,  he  appreciated 
her  worth,  and  he  loved  her. 

In  Mary  we  see  the  type  of  those  deeper  and  more  sen- 
sitive natures  who  ever  aspire  above  and  beyond  the  mate- 
rial and  temporal  to  the  eternal  and  divine;  souls  that  are 
seeking  and  inquiring  with  a  restlessness  that  no  earthly 
thing  can  satisfy,  Avho  can  find  no  peace  until  they  find 
it  in  union  with  God. 

In  St.  Luke  we  have  a  record  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  first  acquaintance  with  this  family  was  formed.  This 
historian  says:  "A  woman  named  Martha  received  him  at 
her  house."  Evidently  the  decisive  and  salient  power  of 
her  nature  caused  her  to  be  regarded  as  mistress  of  the 
family.  There  was  a  grown-up  brother  in  the  family ;  but 
this  house  is  not  called  the  house  of  Lazarus,  but  the  house 
of  Martha  —  a  form  of  speaking  the  more  remarkable  from 
the  great  superiority  or  leadership  which  ancient  customs 
awarded  to  the  male  sex.  But  Martha  was  one  of  those 
natural  leaders  whom  everybody  instinctively  thinks  of  as 
the  head  of  any  house  they  may  happen  to  belong  to.  Her 
tone  toward  Mary  is  authoritative.  The  Mary-nature  is 
a  nature  apt  to  appear  to  disadvantage  in  physical  things. 
It  is  often  puzzled,  and  unskilled,  and  unready  in  the 
details  and  emergencies  of  a  life  like  ours,  which  so  little 
meets  its  deepest  feelings  and  most  importunate  wants. 


THE  REVEALER  OF  GOD'S  SYMPATHY       97 

It  acquires  skill  in  earthly  things  only  as  a  matter  of  disci- 
pline and  conscience,  but  is  always  yearning  above  them 
to  something  higher  and  divine.  A  delicacy  of  moral 
nature  suggests  to  such  a  person  a  thousand  scruples  of 
conscientious  inquiry  in  every  turn  of  life,  which  embarrass 
directness  of  action.  To  the  Martha-nature,  practical, 
direct,  and  prosaic,  all  these  doubts,  scruples,  hesitations, 
and  unreadinesses  appear  only  as  pitiable  weaknesses. 

Again,  Martha's  nature  attaches  a  vast  importance  to 
many  things  which,  in  the  view  of  Mary,  are  so  fleeting 
and  perishable,  and  have  so  little  to  do  with  the  deeper 
immortal  wants  of  the  soul,  that  it  is  difficult  for  her  even 
to  remember  and  keep  them  in  sight.  The  requirements 
of  etiquette,  the  changes  and  details  of  fashion,  the  thou- 
sand particulars  which  pertain  to  keeping  up  a  certain 
footing  in  society  and  a  certain  position  in  the  world  — 
all  these  Martha  has  at  her  fingers'  ends.  They  are  the 
breath  of  her  nostrils,  while  Mary  is  always  forgetting, 
overlooking,  and  transgressing  them.  Many  a  Mary  has 
escaped  into  a  convent,  or  joined  a  sisterhood,  or  worn  the 
plain  dress  of  the  Quaker  in  order  that  she  might  escape 
from  the  exaction  of  the  Marthas  of  her  day,  "careful  [or, 
more  literally,  full  of  care~\  and  troubled  about  many 
things. " 

It  appears  that  in  her  way  Martha  was  a  religious 
woman,  a  sincere  member  of  the  Jewish  Church,  and  an 
intense  believer.  The  preaching  of  Christ  was  the  great 
religious  phenomenon  of  the  times,  and  Martha,  Mary, 
and  Lazarus  joined  the  crowd  who  witnessed  his  miracles 
and  listened  to  his  words.  Both  women  accepted  his 
message  and  believed  his  Messiahship  —  Martha,  from  the 
witness  of  his  splendid  miracles;  Mary,  from  the  deep 
accord  of  her  heart  with  the  wonderful  words  he  had 
uttered.  To  Martha  he  was  the  King  that  should  reign 
in  splendor  at  Jerusalem,  and  raise  their  nation  to  an 


98  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

untold  height  of  glory;  to  Mary  he  was  the  answer  to  the 
eternal  question  —  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life,  for 
which  she  had  been  always  longing. 

Among  many  who  urge  and  press  hospitality,  Martha's 
invitation  prevails.  A  proud  home  is  that,  when  Jesus 
follows  her  —  her  prize,  her  captive.  The  woman  in  our 
day  who  has  captured  in  her  net  of  hospitalities  the  orator, 
the  poet,  the  warrior  —  the  star  of  all  eyes,  the  central 
point  of  all  curiosity,  desire,  and  regard  —  can  best  appre- 
ciate Martha's  joy.  She  will  make  an  entertainment  that 
will  do  credit  to  the  occasion.  She  revolves  prodigies  of 
hospitality.  She  invites  guests  to  whom  her  Acquisition 
shall  be  duly  exhibited,  and  all  is  hurry,  bustle,  and  com- 
motion. But  Mary  follows  him,  silent,  with  a  fluttering 
heart.  His  teaching  has  aroused  the  divine  longing,  the 
immortal  pain,  to  a  throbbing  intensity ;  a  sweet  presenti- 
ment fills  her  soul,  that  she  is  near  One  through  whom 
the  way  into  the  Holiest  is  open,  and  now  is  the  hour. 
She  neither  hears  nor  sees  the  bustle  of  preparation ;  but 
apart,  where  the  Master  has  seated  himself,  she  sits  down 
at  his  feet,  and  her  eyes,  more  than  her  voice,  address 
to  him  that  question  and  that  prayer  which  are  the  ques- 
tion and  the  one  great  reality  of  all  this  fleeting,  mortal 
life. 

The  question  is  answered;  the  prayer  is  granted.  At 
his  feet  she  becomes  spiritually  clairvoyant.  The  way  to 
God  becomes  clear  and  open.  Her  soul  springs  toward 
the  light;  is  embraced  by  the  peace  of  God  that  passeth 
understanding.  It  is  a  soul-crisis,  and  the  Master  sees 
that  in  that  hour  his  breath  has  unfolded  into  blossom 
buds  that  had  been  struggling  in  darkness.  Mary  has 
received  in  her  bosom  the  "white  stone  with  the  new 
name,  which  no  man  knoweth  save  him  that  receiveth  it," 
and  of  which  Jesus  only  is  the  giver.  As  Master  and 
disciple  sit  in  that  calm  and  sweet  accord,  in  which  giver 


THE  REVEALER  OF  GOD'S  SYMPATHY       99 

and  receiver  are  alike  blessed,  suddenly  Martha  appears 
and  breaks  into  the  interview,  in  a  characteristically  im- 
perative sentence:  "Lord,  dost  thou  not  care  that  my 
sister  hath  left  me  to  serve  alone1?  Bid  her,  therefore, 
that  she  help  me." 

Nothing  could  more  energetically  indicate  Martha's 
character  than  this  sentence.  It  shows  her  blunt  sincerity, 
her  conscientious,  matter-of-fact  worldliness,  and  her  dic- 
tatorial positiveness.  Evidently,  here  is  a  person  accus- 
tomed to  having  her  own  way  and  bearing  down  all  about 
her;  a  person  who  believes  in  herself  without  a  doubt, 
and  is  so  positive  that  her  way  is  the  only  right  one  that 
she  cannot  but  be  amazed  that  the  Master  has  not  at  once 
seen  as  she  does.  To  be  sure,  this  is  in  her  view  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  the  King  of  Israel,  the  human 
being  whom  in  her  deepest  heart  she  reverences ;  but  no 
matter,  she  is  so  positive  that  she  is  right  that  she  does 
not  hesitate  to  say  her  say,  and  make  her  complaint  of 
him  as  well  as  of  her  sister.  People  like  Martha  often 
arraign  and  question  the  very  providence  of  God  itself 
when  it  stands  in  the  way  of  their  own  plans.  Martha  is 
sure  of  her  ground.  Here  is  the  Messiah,  the  King  of 
Israel,  at  her  house,  and  she  is  getting  up  an  entertain- 
ment worthy  of  him,  slaving  herself  to  death  for  him,  and 
he  takes  no  notice,  and  most  inconsiderately  allows  her 
dreamy  sister  to  sit  listening  to  him,  instead  of  joining  in 
the  preparation. 

The  reply  of  Jesus  went,  as  his  replies  were  wont  to 
do,  to  the  very  root-fault  of  Martha's  life,  the  fault  of  all 
such  natures:  "Martha,  Martha!  thou  art  careful  and 
troubled  about  many  things,  but  one  thing  is  needful,  and 
Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part  which  shall  not  be  taken 
from  her."  The  Master's  words  evidently  recognize  that 
in  that  critical  hour  Mary  had  passed  a  boundary  in  her 
soul  history,  and  made  an  attainment  of  priceless  value. 


100  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

She  had  gained  something  that  could  never  be  taken  from 
her;  and  she  had  gained  it  by  that  single-hearted  devotion 
to  spiritual  things  which  made  her  prompt  to  know  and 
seize  the  hour  of  opportunity. 

The  brief  narrative  there  intermits;  we  are  not  told 
how  Martha  replied,  or  what  are  the  results  of  this  plain, 
tender  faithfulness  of  reproof.  The  Saviour,  be  it  ob- 
served, did  not  blame  Martha  for  her  nature.  He  did  not 
blame  her  for  not  being  Mary ;  but  he  did  blame  her  for 
not  restraining  and  governing  her  own  nature  and  keeping 
it  in  due  subjection  to  higher  considerations.  A  being  of 
brighter  worlds,  he  stood  looking  on  Martha's  life,  —  on 
her  activities  and  bustle  and  care ;  and  to  him  how  sorrow- 
fully worthless  the  greater  part  of  them  appeared!  To 
him  they  were  mere  toys  and  playthings,  such  as  a  child 
is  allowed  to  play  with  in  the  earlier,  undeveloped  hours 
of  existence ;  not  to  be  harshly  condemned,  but  still  utterly 
fleeting  and  worthless  in  the  face  of  the  tremendous  eternal 
realities,  the  glories  and  the  dangers  of  the  eternal  state. 

It  must  be  said  here  that  all  we  know  of  our  Lord  leads 
us  to  feel  that  he  was  not  encouraging  and  defending  in 
Mary  a  selfish,  sentimental  indulgence  in  her  own  cher- 
ished emotions  and  affections,  leaving  the  burden  of  neces- 
sary care  on  a  sister  who  would  have  been  equally  glad  to 
sit  at  Jesus'  feet.  That  was  not  his  reading  of  the  situa- 
tion. It  was  that  Martha,  engrossed  in  a  thousand  cares, 
burdened  herself  with  a  weight  of  perplexities  of  which 
there  was  no  need,  and  found  no  time  and  had  no  heart 
to  come  to  him  and  speak  of  the  only,  the  one  thing  that 
endures  beyond  the  present  world.  To  how  many  hearts 
does  this  reproof  apply  1  How  many  who  call  themselves 
Christians  are  weary,  wasted,  worn,  drained  of  life,  injured 
in  health,  fretted  in  temper,  by  a  class  of  anxieties  so 
purely  worldly  that  they  can  never  bring  them  to  Christ, 
or  if  they  do,  would  meet  first  and  foremost  his  tender 


THE   EEVEALER    OF   GOD'S    SYMPAY,  j  't  \  ,101 


reproof,  "Thou  art  careful  and  troubled  about 

there  is  but  one  thing  really  needful.      Se,ek  £&aii  jjcjoff 

which  shall  never  be  taken  away." 

What  fruit  this  rebuke  bore  will  appear  as  we  further 
pursue  the  history  of  the  sister.  The  subsequent  story 
shows  that  Martha  was  a  brave,  sincere,  good  woman, 
capable  of  yielding  to  reproof  and  acknowledging  a  fault. 
There  is  precious  material  in  such,  if  only  their  powers  be 
turned  to  the  highest  and  best  things. 

It  is  an  interesting  thought  that  the  human  affection  of 
Jesus  for  one  family  has  been  made  the  means  of  leaving 
on  record  the  most  consoling  experience  for  the  sorrows  of 
bereavement  that  sacred  literature  affords.  Viewed  merely 
on  the  natural  side,  the  intensity  of  human  affections  and 
the  frightful  possibilities  of  suffering  involved  in  their  very 
sweetness  present  a  fearful  prospect  when  compared  with 
that  stony  inflexibility  of  natural  law,  which  goes  forth 
crushing,  bruising,  lacerating,  without  the  least  apparent 
feeling  for  human  agony. 

The  God  of  nature  appears  silent,  unalterable,  unsym- 
pathetic, pursuing  general  good  without  a  throb  of  pity  for 
individual  suffering;  and  that  suffering  is  so  unspeakable, 
so  terrible!  Close  shadowing  every  bridal,  every  cradle, 
is  this  awful  possibility  of  death  that  may  come  at  any 
moment,  unannounced  and  inevitable.  The  joy  of  this 
hour  may  become  the  bitterness  of  the  next;  the  ring,  the 
curl  of  hair,  the  locket,  the  picture,  that  to-day  are  a 
treasure  of  hope  and  happiness,  to-morrow  may  be  only 
weapons  of  bitterness  that  stab  at  every  view.  The  silent 
inflexibility  of  God  in  upholding  laws  that  work  out  such 
terrible  agonies  and  suffering  is  something  against  which 
the  human  heart  moans  and  chafes  through  all  ancient 
literature.  "The  gods  envy  the  happy,"  was  the  con- 
struction put  upon  the  problem  of  life  as  the  old  sages 
viewed  it. 


102,   ;  'FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 


jn  .this  .second  scene  of  the  story  of  the  sisters  of 
<  >\ei  li^veJihat  view  of  God  which  is  the  only  one 
powerful  enough  to  soothe  and  control  the  despair  of  the 
stricken  heart.  It  says  to  us  that  behind  this  seeming 
inflexibility,  this  mighty  and  most  needful  unholding  of 
law,  is  a  throbbing,  sympathizing  heart,  — bearing  with  us 
the  sorrow  of  this  struggling  period  of  existence,  and 
pointing  to  a  perfect  fulfillment  in  the  future. 

The  story  opens  most  remarkably.  In  the  absence  of 
the  Master,  the  brother  is  stricken  down  with  deadly 
disease.  Forthwith  a  hasty  messenger  is  dispatched  to 
Jesus.  "Lord,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick."  Here  is 
no  prayer  expressed;  but  human  language  could  not  be 
more  full  of  all  the  elements  of  the  best  kind  of  prayer. 
It  is  the  prayer  of  perfect  trust  —  the  prayer  of  love  that 
has  no  shadow  of  doubt.  If  only  we  let  Jesus  know  we 
are  in  trouble,  we  are  helped.  We  need  not  ask,  we  need 
only  say,  "He  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick,"  and  he  will 
understand,  and  the  work  will  be  done.  We  are  safe  with 
him. 

Then  comes  the  seeming  contradiction  —  the  trial  of 
faith  —  that  gives  this  story  such  a  value:  "Now  Jesus 
loved  Martha  and  her  sister  and  Lazarus.  When,  there- 
fore, he  heard  that  he  was  sick,  he  abode  two  days  in  the 
same  place  where  he  was."  Because  he  loved  them,  he 
delayed;  because  he  loved  them,  he  resisted  that  most 
touching  appeal  that  heart  can  make,  —  the  appeal  of  utter 
trust.  We  can  imagine  the  wonder,  the  anguish,  the  con- 
flict of  spirit,  when  death  at  last  shut  the  door  in  the  face 
of  their  prayers.  Had  God  forgotten  to  be  gracious? 
Had  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  tender  mercy?  Did  not 
Jesus  love  them?  Had  he  not  power  to  heal?  Why 
then  had  he  suffered  this  ?  Ah !  this  is  exactly  the  strait 
in  which  thousands  of  Christ's  own  beloved  ones  must 
stand  in  the  future;  and  Mary  and  Martha,  unconsciously 


THE  REVEALER  OF  GOD'S  SYMPATHY 


to  themselves,  were  suffering  with  Christ  '  inJ  the  great 
work  of  human  consolation.  Their  distress/  -and  ^ngmsh*; 
and  sorrow  were  necessary  to  work  out  a  great  experience 
of  God's  love,  where  multitudes  of  anguished  hearts  have 
laid  themselves  down  as  on  a  pillow  of  repose,  and  have 
been  comforted. 

Something  of  this  is  shadowed  in  the  Master's  words: 
"This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of 
God,  —  that  the  Son  of  God  might  be  glorified  thereby.  " 
What  was  that  glory  of  God?  Not  most  his  natural 
power,  but  his  sympathetic  tenderness,  his  loving  heart. 
What  is  the  glory  of  the  Son  of  God?  Not  the  mere 
display  of  power,  but  power  used  to  console,  in  manifest- 
ing to  the  world  that  this  cruel  death  —  the  shadow  that 
haunts  all  human  life,  that  appalls  and  terrifies,  that  scat- 
ters anguish  and  despair  —  is  not  death,  but  the  gateway 
of  a  brighter  life,  in  which  Jesus  shall  restore  love  to  love, 
in  eternal  reunion. 

In  the  scene  with  the  sisters  before  the  Saviour  arrives, 
we  are  struck  with  the  consideration  in  which  the  family 
is  held.  This  house  is  thronged  with  sympathizing  friends, 
and,  as  appears  from  some  incidents  afterwards,  friends 
among  the  higher  classes  of  the  nation.  Martha  hears  of 
the  approach  of  Jesus,  and  goes  forth  to  meet  him. 

In  all  the  scene  which  follows  we  are  impressed  with 
the  dignity  and  worth  of  Martha's  character.  We  see  in 
the  scene  of  sorrow  that  Martha  has  been  the  strong,  prac- 
tical woman,  on  whom  all  rely  in  the  hour  of  sickness,  and 
whose  energy  is  equal  to  any  emergency.  We  see  her 
unsubdued  by  emotion,  ready  to  go  forth  to  receive  Jesus, 
and  prompt  to  meet  the  issues  of  the  moment.  We  see, 
too,  that  the  appreciation  of  the  worth  of  her  character, 
which  had  led  him  to  admonish  her  against  the  material- 
istic tendencies  of  such  a  nature,  was  justified  by  the 
fruits  of  that  rebuke.  Martha  had  grown  more  spiritual 


104t  ^  ,    .FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

by 'intercourse 'with  the  Master,  and  as  she  falls  at  Jesus' 
'f4e\*£fif  half -.complaint  which  her  sorrow  wrings  from  her 
is  nere  'merged  in  the  expression  of  her  faith:  "Lord,  if 
thou  hadst  been  here  my  brother  had  not  died;  but  I 
know  that  even  now,  whatsoever  thou  wilt  ask  of  God, 
God  will  give  it  to  thee.  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Thy 
brother  shall  rise  again."  Like  every  well-trained  reli- 
gious Jew  of  her  day,  Martha  was  versed  in  the  doctrine 
of  the  general  resurrection.  That  this  belief  was  a  more 
actively  operating  motive  with  the  ancient  Jewish  than 
with  the  modern  Christian  Church  of  our  day  is  attested 
by  the  affecting  history  of  the  martyrdom  of  the  mother 
and  her  seven  sons,  in  the  Book  of  Maccabees.  Martha 
therefore  makes  prompt  answer,  "I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  in  the  resurrection  at  the  last  day."  Jesus  answered 
her  in  words  which  no  mere  mortal  could  have  uttered  — 
words  of  a  divine  fullness  of  meaning  —  "I  am  the  Resur- 
rection and  the  Life:  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though 
dead,  shall  live,  and  whosoever  believeth  in  me  is  immor- 
tal." 

In  these  words  he  claims  to  be  the  great  source  of  Life, 
—  the  absolute  Lord  and  Controller  of  all  that  relates  to 
life,  death,  and  eternity;  and  he  makes  the  appeal  to 
Martha's  faith:  "Believest  thou  this?"  "Yea,  Lord," 
she  responds,  "I  believe  thou  art  the  Christ  of  God  that 
should  come  into  the  world."  And  then  she  runs  and 
calls  her  sister  secretly,  saying,  "  The  Master  is  come  and 
calleth  for  thee."  As  a  majestic  symphony  modulates  into 
a  tender  and  pathetic  minor  passage,  so  the  tone  of  the 
narrative  here  changes  to  the  most  exquisite  pathos. 
Mary,  attended  by  her  weeping  friends,  comes  and  falls  at 
Jesus'  feet,  and  sobs  out:  "Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here 
my  brother  had  not  died !  " 

It  indicates  the  delicate  sense  of  character  which  ever 
marked  the  intercourse  of  our  Lord,  that  to  this  helpless, 


THE   REVEALER   OF   COD'S  SYMPATHY  105 

heart-broken  child  prostrate  at  his  feet  he  addresses  no 
appeal  to  reason  or  faith.  He  felt  within  himself  the 
overwhelming  power  of  that  tide  of  emotion  which  for  the 
time  bore  down  both  reason  and  faith  in  helpless  anguish. 
With  such  sorrow  there  was  no  arguing,  and  Jesus  did  not 
attempt  argument;  for  the  story  goes  on:  "When  Jesus 
saw  her  weeping,  and  the  Jews  also  weeping  that  came 
with  her,  he  groaned  in  spirit  and  was  troubled ;  and  he 
said,  Where  have  ye  laid  him?  And  they  said,  Lord, 
come  and  see.  Jesus  wept."  Those  tears  interpreted  for 
all  time  God's  silence  and  apparent  indifference  to  human 
suffering;  and  wherever  Christ  is  worshiped  as  the  bright- 
ness of  the  Father's  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person,  they  bear  witness  that  the  God  who  upholds  the 
laws  that  wound  and  divide  human  affections  still  feels 
with  us  the  sorrow  which  he  permits.  "In  all  our  afflic- 
tions he  is  afflicted." 

And  now  came  the  sublime  and  solemn  scene  when  he 
who  had  claimed  to  be  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  made 
good  his  claim.  Standing  by  the  grave  he  called,  as  he 
shall  one  day  call  to  all  the  dead,  "Lazarus,  come  forth!" 
And  here  the  curtain  drops  over  the  scene  of  restoration. 

We  do  not  see  this  family  circle  again  till  just  before 
the  final  scene  of  the  great  tragedy  of  Christ's  life.  The 
hour  was  at  hand,  of  suffering,  betrayal,  rejection,  denial, 
shame,  agony,  and  death;  and  with  the  shadow  of  this 
awful  cloud  over  his  mind,  Jesus  comes  for  the  last  time 
to  Jerusalem.  To  the  eye  of  the  thoughtless,  Jesus  was 
never  so  popular,  so  beloved,  as  at  the  moment  when  he 
entered  the  last  week  of  his  life  at  Jerusalem.  Palm 
branches  and  flowers  strewed  his  way,  hosannas  greeted 
him  on  every  side,  and  the  chief  priests  and  Scribes  said, 
"Perceive  ye  how  ye  prevail  nothing?  Behold  the  world 
is  gone  after  him !  "  But  the  mind  of  Jesus  was  wrapped  in 
that  awful  shade  of  the  events  that  were  so  soon  to  follow. 


106  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

He  passes  out,  after  his  first  day  in  Jerusalem,  to 
Bethany,  and  takes  refuge  in  this  dear  circle.  There  they 
make  him  a  feast,  and  Martha  serves,  but  Lazarus,  as  a 
restored  treasure,  sits  at  the  table.  Then  took  Mary  a 
pound  of  ointment,  very  precious,  and  anointed  the  head 
of  Jesus,  and  anointed  his  feet  with  the  ointment,  and 
wiped  them  with  her  hair. 

There  is  something  in  the  action  that  marks  the  poetic 
and  sensitive  nature  of  Mary.  Her  heart  was  overbur- 
dened with  gratitude  and  love.  She  longed  to  give  some- 
thing, and  how  little  was  there  that  she  could  give !  She 
buys  the  most  rare,  the  most  costly  of  perfumes,  breaks 
the  vase,  and  sheds  it  upon  his  head.  Could  she  have  put 
her  whole  life,  her  whole  existence,  into  that  fleeting  per- 
fume and  poured  it  out  for  him,  she  gladly  would  have 
done  it.  That  was  what  the  action  said,  and  what  Jesus 
understood.  Forthwith  comes  the  criticism  of  Judas: 
"  What  a  waste !  It  were  better  to  give  the  money  to  the 
poor  than  to  expend  it  in  mere  sentimentalism. "  Jesus 
defended  her  with  all  the  warmth  of  his  nature,  in  words 
tinged  with  the  presentiment  of  his  approaching  doom: 
"Let  her  alone;  she  is  come  aforehand  to  anoint  my  body 
for  the  burial."  Then,  as  if  deeply  touched  with  the 
reality  of  that  love  which  thus  devoted  itself  to  him,  he 
adds,  "  Wheresoever  this  gospel  shall  be  preached  through- 
out the  world,  there  shall  what  this  woman  hath  done  be 
had  in  remembrance."  The  value  set  upon  pure  love, 
upon  that  unconsidering  devotion  which  gives  its  best  and 
utmost  freely  and  wholly,  is  expressed  in  these  words.  A 
loving  God  seeks  love;  and  he  who  thus  spoke  is  he  who 
afterward,  when  he  appeared  in  glory,  declared  his  abhor- 
rence of  lukewarmness  in  his  followers:  "I  would  thou 
wert  cold  or  hot;  because  thou  art  lukewarm  I  will  spue 
thee  out  of  my  mouth."  It  is  significant  of  the  change 
which  had  passed  upon  Martha  that  no  criticism  of  Mary's 


THE   REVEALER   OF   GOD'S    SYMPATHY  107 

action  in  this  case  came  from  her.  There  might  have  been 
a  time  when  this  inconsiderate  devotion  of  a  poetic  nature 
would  have  annoyed  her  and  called  out  remonstrance.  In 
her  silence  we  feel  a  sympathetic  acquiescence. 

After  this  scene  we  meet  the  family  no  more.  Doubt- 
less the  three  were  among  the  early  watchers  upon  the 
resurrection  morning;  doubtless  they  were  of  the  number 
among  whom  Jesus  stood  after  the  resurrection,  saying, 
"Peace  be  unto  you;"  doubtless  they  were  of  those  who 
went  out  with  him  to  the  Mount  of  Olives  when  he  was 
taken  up  into  heaven;  and  doubtless  they  are  now  with 
him  in  glory :  for  it  is  an  affecting  thought  that  no  human 
personality  is  ever  lost  or  to  be  lost.  In  the  future  ages 
it  may  be  our  happiness  to  see  and  know  those  whose 
history  has  touched  our  hearts  so  deeply. 

One  lesson  from  this  history  we  pray  may  be  taken  into 
every  mourning  heart.  The  Apostle  says  that  Jesus  up- 
holds all  things  by  the  word  of  his  power.  The  laws  by 
which  accident,  sickness,  loss,  and  death  are  constantly 
bringing  despair  and  sorrow  to  sensitive  hearts  are  upheld 
by  that  same  Jesus  who  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and 
who  is  declared  to  be  Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday  and 
forever.  When  we  see  the  exceeding  preciousness  of 
human  love  in  his  eyes,  and  realize  his  sympathetic  nature, 
and  then  remember  that  he  is  BESURRECTION  AND  LIFE, 
can  we  not  trust  him  with  our  best  beloved,  and  look  to 
him  for  that  hour  of  reunion  which  he  has  promised  ? 

The  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body  is  a  precious 
concession  to  human  weakness  and  human  love.  How 
dear  the  outward  form  of  our  child,  —  how  distressing  to 
think  we  shall  never  see  it  again!  But  Christ  promises 
we  shall.  Here  is  a  mystery.  St.  Paul  says,  that  as  the 
seed  buried  in  the  earth  is  to  the  new  plant  or  flower,  so 
is  our  present  mortal  body  to  the  new  immortal  one  that 
shall  spring  from  it.  It  shall  be  our  friend,  our  child, 


108  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

familiar  to  us  .with  all  that  mysterious  charm  of  personal 
identity,  yet  clothed  with  the  life  and  beauty  of  the  skies; 
and  then  the  Lord  God  will  wipe  away  all  tears  from  all 
faces. 


XVI 

THE    ATTRACTIVENESS    OF    JESUS 

THERE  was  one  great  characteristic  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
which  his  followers  succeed  in  imitating  less  than  any 
other,  and  that  is  a  singular  sweetness  and  attractiveness 
which  drew  toward  him  even  the  sinful  and  fallen.  There 
are  the  most  obvious  indications  in  all  the  narrative  that 
Christ's  virtue  was  not  of  the  repellent  kind  that  drove 
sinners  away  from  him,  but  that  there  was  around  him  a 
peculiar  charm  and  graciousness  of  manner  which  affected 
the  most  uncongenial  characters. 

We  are  all  familiar  with  a  style  of  goodness  quite  the 
reverse  of  this  —  a  goodness  that  is  terrible  to  evil-doers  — 
a  goodness  that  is  instinctively  felt  to  have  no  sympathy 
with  the  sinner.  Such  was  the  virtue  of  Christ's  great 
forerunner,  John  the  Baptist.  He  commanded,  but  did 
not  charm;  the  attraction  that  drew  men  toward  him  was 
that  of  mingled  fear  and  curiosity,  but  there  was  no  ten- 
derness in  it.  When  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  flocked  to 
his  baptism,  he  met  them  with  a  thunderbolt :  "  0  genera- 
tion of  vipers!  who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come?"  He  declined  all  social  joys;  he  would 
not  eat  or  drink  at  men's  tables;  he  dwelt  alone  in  the 
deserts,  appearing  as  a  Voice  —  a  voice  of  warning  and 
terror !  His  disciples  were  few ;  he  took  no  pains  to  make 
them  more. 

But  even  this  stern  and  rugged  nature  felt  the  charm 
and  sweetness  of  Jesus,  as  something  different  from  him- 


THE   ATTRACTIVENESS   OF   JESUS  109 

self.  It  is  very  touching  to  read  how  the  peculiar  de- 
meanor of  Jesus  impressed  this  hardy  old  warrior:  "And 
looking  on  Jesus  as  he  walked,  he  said,  Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God,  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  The 
words  seem  as  if  they  might  have  been  said  with  tears  in 
the  eyes.  Immediately  two  of  his  few  disciples  left  him 
and  followed  Jesus;  and  he  was  content.  "He  must  in- 
crease and  I  must  decrease,"  he  said  humbly.  "He  that 
is  from  Heaven  is  above  all." 

We  find  that  Jesus  loved  social  life  and  the  fellowship 
of  men.  Though  he  spent  the  first  forty  days  after  his 
mission  began  in  the  solitude  of  the  desert,  yet  he  returned 
from  it  the  same  warm-hearted  and  social  being  as  before. 
The  first  appearance  that  he  made  was  at  a  wedding-feast, 
and  his  very  first  miracle  was  wrought. to  enhance  its  joy. 
A  wedding-feast  in  those  lands  meant  more  than  with  us. 
It  was  not  merely  an  hour  given  to  festivity,  but  lasted 
from  three  to  seven  days.  There  were  large  gatherings 
of  relations  and  friends  from  afar;  there  were  dances  and 
songs,  and  every  form  of  rejoicing;  and  at  this  particular 
feast  in  Cana  it  seems  Jesus  and  his  mother  were  present 
as  honored  and  beloved  guests.  His  gentleness  and  affa- 
bility led  his  mother  to  feel  that  she  might  perhaps  gain 
from  him  an  aid  to  the  inadequate  provision  made  for  the 
hospitality  of  the  occasion.  His  reply  to  her  has  been 
deemed  abrupt  and  severe.  That  it  was  not  so  understood 
by  his  mother  herself  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  she  did 
not  accept  it  as  a  refusal,  but  expected  a  compliance,  and 
gave  orders  to  prepare  for  it.  It  was  necessary  when 
among  relatives  in  his  family  circle  to  express  with  great 
decision  the  idea  that  his  miraculous  powers  were  not  to 
be  considered  as  in  any  way  under  the  control  of  his 
private  and  human  affections,  and  that  he  must  use  them 
only  as  a  Higher  Power  should  direct. 

His  presence   at  this  wedding  was   significant   of   that 


110  FOOTSTEPS    OF   THE   MASTER 

divine  love  which  ever  watches  over  the  family,  and  the 
wine  that  he  gave  symbolized  that  cheer  and  support 
which  God's  ever-present  love  and  sympathy  pours  through 
all  the  life  of  the  household.  We  gather  incidentally  from 
many  seemingly  casual  statements  that  Jesus  was  often 
invited  to  feasts  in  the  houses  of  "both  rich  and  poor,  and 
cheerfully  accepted  these  invitations  even  on  the  Sabbath 
day. 

He  seems  to  have  been  also  especially  attractive  to  little 
children ;  he  loved  them  and  noticed  them ;  and  it  would 
seem  from  some  parts  of  the  Gospel  narrative  as  if  the 
little  ones  watched  for  his  coming  and  ran  to  his  arms 
instinctively.  Their  artless,  loving  smiles,  their  clear, 
candid  eyes,  reminded  him  of  that  world  of  love  where  he 
had  dwelt  before  he  came  to  our  earth,  and  he  said,  "  Of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  It  was  the  sense  that  he 
loved  little  ones  that  led  mothers  to  force  their  way  with 
their  infants  through  reproving  and  unsympathetic  disci- 
ples ;  there  was  that  about  Jesus  which  made  every  mother 
sure  that  he  would  love  her  child,  and  that  the  very  touch 
of  his  hands  would  bring  a  blessing  upon  it ;  and  when  his 
disciples  treated  the  effort  as  an  intrusion  it  is  said  "Jesus 
was  much  displeased."  He  did  not  merely  accept  or  toler- 
ate the  movement,  but  entered  into  it  with  warmth  and 
enthusiasm;  he  did  not  coldly  lay  the  tips  of  his  sacred 
fingers  on  them,  but  took  them  up  in  his  arms  and  laid 
his  hands  on  them  and  blessed  them;  he  embraced  them 
and  held  them  to  his  heart  as  something  that  he  would 
make  peculiarly  his  own. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  Jesus  was  the  children's 
favorite,  and  that  on  his  last  triumphal  entrance  into  Jeru- 
salem the  hosannas  of  the  children  in  the  temple  should 
have  been  so  loud  and  so  persistent  as  to  excite  the  anger 
of  the  priests  and  Scribes.  They  called  on  him  to  silence 
the  little  voices,  as  if  they  felt  sure  that  he  could  control 


THE  ATTRACTIVENESS   OF   JESUS  111 

them  by  a  word ;  but  that  word  Jesus  refused  to  speak. 
The  voices  of  these  young  birds  of  paradise  were  dear  to 
him,  and  he  said  indignantly,  "If  these  were  forbidden  to 
speak  the  very  stones  would  cry  out.'7 

But  still  more  remarkable  is  the  fact  that  Jesus  was 
attractive  to  a  class  who  as  a  general  thing  hate  and  flee 
from  religious  teachers.  The  publicans  and  sinners,  the 
disreputable  and  godless  classes,  felt  themselves  strangely 
drawn  to  him.  If  we  remember  how  intensely  bitter  was 
the  Jewish  sense  of  degradation  in  being  under  Roman 
taxation,  and  how  hardly  and  cruelly  the  office  of  collect- 
ing that  tribute  was  often  exercised,  we  may  well  think 
that  only  Jews  who  cared  little  for  the  opinions  of  their 
countrymen,  and  had  little  character  to  lose,  would  under- 
take it.  We  know  there  are  in  all  our  cities  desperate 
and  perishing  classes  inhabiting  regions  where  it  would  be 
hardly  safe  for  a  reputable  person  to  walk.  Yet  in  regions 
like  these  the  pure  apparition  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  walked 
serene,  and  all  hearts  were  drawn  to  him. 

What  was  the  charm  about  him,  that  he  whose  rule  of 
morality  was  stricter  than  that  of  Scribes  or  Pharisees  yet 
attracted  and  drew  after  him  the  most  abandoned  classes  ? 
They  saw  that  he  loved  them.  Yes,  he  really  loved  them. 
The  infinite  love  of  God  looked  through  his  eyes,  breathed 
in  his  voice,  and  shed  a  persuasive  charm  through  all  his 
words.  To  the  intellectual  and  cultured  men  of  the  better 
classes  his  word  was,  "Ye  must  be  born  again;"  but  to 
these  poor  wanderers  he  said,  "Ye  may  be  born  again. 
All  is  not  lost.  Purity,  love,  a  higher  life,  are  all  for 
you,"  —  and  he  said  it  with  such  energy,  such  vital 
warmth  of  sympathy,  that  they  believed  him.  They 
crowded  round  him  and  he  welcomed  them;  they  invited 
him  to  their  houses  and  he  went;  he  sat  with  them  at 
table ;  he  held  their  little  ones  in  his  arms ;  he  gave  him- 
self to  them.  When  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  murmured 


112  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

at  this  intimacy,  he  answered,  "The  whole  need  not  the 
Physician,  but  those  that  are  sick;  I  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners."  His  most  beautiful  parables,  of 
the  lost  sheep,  the  lost  coin,  and  the  Prodigal  Son,  were  all 
poured  out  of  the  fullness  of  his  heart  for  them  —  and 
what  a  heart!  What  news  indeed,  to  these  lost  ones,  to 
be  told  that  their  Father  cared  for  them  the  more  because 
they  were  lost;  that  he  went  after  them  because  they 
wandered;  and  that  all  around  the  pure  throne  of  God 
were  pitying  eyes  watching  for  their  return,  and  strong 
hands  of  welcome  stretched  out  to  aid  them  back.  No 
wonder  that  the  poor  lost  woman  of  the  street  had  such 
a  courage  and  hope  awakened  in  her  that  she  pressed 
through  the  sneering  throng,  and  under  the  very  eyes  of 
Scribe  and  Pharisee  found  her  refuge  and  rest  at  the  gra- 
cious feet  of  such  a  Master.  No  wonder  that  Matthew 
the  publican  rose  up  at  once  from  the  receipt  of  custom 
and  left  all  to  follow  that  Jesus,  who  had  taught  him  that 
he  too  might  be  a  son  of  God. 

And  we  read  of  one  Zaccheus,  a  poor  worldly  little  man, 
who  had  lived  a  hard,  sharp,  extortionate  life,  and  perhaps 
was  supposed  to  have  nothing  good  in  him ;  but  even  he 
felt  a  singular  internal  stir  and  longing  for  something 
higher,  awakened  by  this  preacher,  and  when  he  heard 
that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  passing  he  ran  and  climbed 
a  tree  that  he  might  look  on  him  as  he  passed.  But  the 
gracious  Stranger  paused  under  the  tree,  and  a  sweet, 
cheerful  voice  said,  "Zaccheus,  make  haste  and  come 
down,  for  to-day  I  must  dine  at  thy  house."  Trembling, 
scarce  able  to  believe  his  good  fortune,  we  are  told  he 
came  down  and  received  Jesus  joyfully.  Immediately,  as 
flowers  burst  out  under  spring  sunshine,  awoke  the  virtues 
in  that  heart:  "Lord,  half  my  goods  I  give  to  the  poor, 
and  if  I  have  taken  anything  by  false  accusation  I  restore 
fourfold."  This  shows  that  the  influence  of  Jesus  was 


THE   ATTKACTIVENESS   OF   JESUS  113 

no  mere  sentimental  attraction,  but  a  vital,  spiritual  force, 
corresponding  to  what  was  said  of  him:  "As  many  as 
received  him  to  them  gave  he  power  to  become  sons  of 
God." 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  wicked  people  are  happy 
in  wickedness.  Wrong-doing  is  often  a  sorrowful  chain 
and  burden,  and  those  who  bear  it  are  often  despairingly 
conscious  of  their  degradation. 

Jesus  carried  with  him  the  power  not  only  to  heal  the 
body  but  to  cure  the  soul,  to  give  the  vigor  of  a  new  spirit- 
ual life,  the  joy  of  a  sense  of  recovered  purity.  He  was 
not  merely  able  to  say,  "Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee,"  but 
also,  "  Go  in  peace ; "  and  the  peace  was  real  and  perma- 
nent. 

Another  reason  for  the  attractiveness  of  Jesus  was  the 
value  he  set  on  human  affections.  The  great  ones  of  the 
earth  often  carry  an  atmosphere  about  them  that  withers 
the  heart  with  a  sense  of  insignificance.  Every  soul  longs 
to  be  something  to  the  object  of  its  regard,  and  the 
thought,  "My  love  is  nothing  to  him,"  is  a  chilling  one. 
But  Christ  asked  for  love  —  valued  it.  No  matter  how 
poor,  how  lowly,  how  sinful  in  time  past,  the  love  of  a 
repentant  soul  he  accepted  as  a  priceless  treasure.  He  set 
the  loving  sinner  above  the  cold-hearted  Pharisee.  He 
asked  not  only  for  love,  but  for  intimacy  —  he  asked  for 
the  whole  heart;  and  there  are  many  desolate  ones  in  this 
cheerless  earth  to  whom  it  is  a  new  life  to  know  that  a 
godlike  Being  cares  for  their  love. 

The  great  external  sufferings  of  Christ  and  the  prophetic 
prediction  that  he  should  be  a  "  man  of  sorrows "  have 
been  dwelt  upon  so  much  that  we  sometimes  forget  the 
many  passages  in  the  New  Testament  which  show  that  the 
spiritual  atmosphere  of  Christ  was  one  of  joy.  He  brought 
to  those  that  received  him  a  sense  of  rest  and  peace  and 
joy.  St.  John  speaks  of  him  as  "  LIGHT.  "  He  answered 


114  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

those  who  asked  why  his  disciples  did  not  fast  like  those 
of  John,  by  an  image  which  showed  that  his  very  presence 
made  life  a  season  of  festivity:  "Can  the  children  of  the 
bride-chamber  mourn  while  the  bridegroom  is  with  them  ?  " 
What  a  beautiful  picture  of  a  possible  life  is  given  in  his 
teaching.  God  he  speaks  of  as  "your  Father."  All  the 
prophets  and  teachers  that  came  before  spoke  of  him  as 
"the  Lord."  Christ  called  him  simply  "THE  FATHER,"  as 
if  to  intimate  that  Fatherhood  was  the  highest  and  most 
perfect  expression  of  the  great  Invisible.  He  said,  there- 
fore, to  the  toiling  race  of  man:  "Be  not  anxious,  your 
Father  in  Heaven  will  take  care  of  you.  He  forgets  not 
even  a  little  sparrow,  and  he  certainly  will  not  forget  you. 
Go  to  him  with  all  your  wants.  You  would  not  forget 
your  children's  prayers;  and  your  Father  in  Heaven  is 
better  than  you.  Be  loving,  be  kind,  be  generous  and 
sweet-hearted;  if  men  hate  you,  love  and  pray  for  them; 
and  you  will  be  your  Father's  children." 

See  how  the  man  Jesus,  who  was  to  his  disciples  the 
Master,  Christ,  had  power  to  comfort  them  in  distress,  and 
how  not  only  his  own  followers,  but  also  those  of  his  great 
forerunner,  John,  were  naturally  drawn  to  confide  their 
troubles  to  him. 

These  disciples  who  took  up  the  Baptist's  disfigured 
body  after  spite  and  contempt  and  hate  had  done  their 
worst  on  it,  who  paid  their  last  tribute  of  reverence  and 
respect  amid  the  scoffs  of  a  jeering  world,  were  men  — 
men  of  deep  emotions  and  keen  feelings;  and  probably  at 
that  moment  every  capability  of  feeling  they  had  was  fully 
aroused. 

It  appears  from  the  first  chapter  of  John,  that  he  and 
others  were  originally  the  disciples  of  the  Baptist  during 
the  days  of  his  first  powerful  ministry,  and  had  been  by 
him  pointed  to  Jesus.  We  see  in  other  places  that  the 
Apostle  John  had  an  intense  power  of  indignation,  and 


THE   ATTRACTIVENESS   OF  JESUS  115 

was  of  that  nature  that  longed  to  grasp  the  thunderbolts 
when  he  saw  injustice.  It  was  John  that  wanted  to  bring 
down  fire  from  heaven  on  the  village  that  refused  to  shelter 
Christ,  and  can  we  doubt  that  his  whole  soul  was  moved 
with  the  most  fiery  indignation  at  wrong  and  cruelty  like 
this1?  For  Christ  himself  had  said  of  the  martyr  thus  sac- 
rificed: "Among  those  that  are  born  of  women  there  hath 
not  risen  a  greater  than  John  the  Baptist."  He  had  done 
a  great  work;  he  had  swayed  the  hearts  of  all  his  country- 
men; he  had  been  the  instrument  of  the  most  powerful 
revival  of  religion  known  in  his  times.  There  had  been 
a  time  when  his  name  was  in  every  mouth;  when  all 
Jerusalem  and  Judaea,  and  beyond  Jordan,  thronged  to  his 
ministry  —  even  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  joining  the 
multitude.  And  now  what  an  end  of  so  noble  a  man! 
Seized  and  imprisoned  at  the  behest  of  an  adulterous 
woman  whose  sin  he  had  rebuked,  shut  up  in  prison,  his 
ministry  ended,  all  his  power  for  good  taken  away,  and 
finally  finishing  his  life  under  circumstances  which  mark 
more  than  any  other  could  the  contempt  and  indifference 
which  the  great  gay  world  of  his  day  had  for  goodness  and 
greatness!  The  head  of  a  national  benefactor,  of  a  man 
who  had  lived  for  God  and  man  wholly  and  devotedly 
from  his  birth,  was  used  as  a  football,  made  the  subject 
of  a  court  jest  between  the  courtesan  and  the  prince. 

Oh  that  it  had  pleased  God  to  give  us  the  particulars 
of  that  interview  when  the  disciples,  burning,  struggling 
under  pressure  of  that  cruel  indignity,  came  and  told 
Jesus!  Can  we  imagine  with  what  burning  words  John 
told  of  the  scorn,  the  contempt,  the  barbarity  with  which 
the  greatest  man  of  his  time  had  been  hurried  to  a  bloody 
grave  ?  Were  there  not  doubts  —  wonderings  ?  Why  did 
God  permit  it  1  Why  was  not  a  miracle  wrought,  if  need 
were,  to  save  him?  And  what  did  Jesus  say  to  them? 
Oh  that  we  knew !  We  would  lay  it  up  in  our  hearts,  to 


116  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

be  used  when  in  our  lesser  sphere  we  see  things  going  in 
the  course  of  this  world  as  if  God  were  not  heeding.  Of 
one  thing  we  may  be  sure.  Jesus  made  them  quiet;  he 
calmed  and  rested  them. 

And  all  that  Jesus  taught,  he  was.  This  life  of  sweet 
repose,  of  unruffled  peace,  of  loving  rest  in  an  ever-present 
Father,  he  carried  with  him  as  he  went,  everywhere  warm- 
ing, melting,  cheering;  inspiring  joy  in  the  sorrowful  and 
hope  in  the  despairing;  giving  peace  to  the  perplexed; 
and,  last  and  best  of  all,  in  his  last  hours,  when  he  sought 
to  cheer  his  sorrowful  disciples  in  view  of  his  death  and 
one  of  them  said,  "Lord,  show  us  the  Father  and  it  will 
suffice,"  he  answered,  "He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen 
the  Father."  The  Invisible  Jehovah,  the  vast,  strange, 
mysterious  Will  that  moves  all  worlds  and  controls  all 
destinies,  reveals  himself  to  us  in  the  Man  Jesus  —  the 
Christ. 

We  are  told  of  an  Old  Testament  prophet  that  sought  to 
approach  God.  First  there  was  a  mighty  tempest;  but 
the  Lord  was  not  in  the  tempest.  There  was  a  devouring 
fire;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire.  There  was  an 
earthquake;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake. 
Then  there  came  at  last  a  "  still,  small  voice :  "  and  when 
the  prophet  heard  that  he  wrapped  his  face  in  his  mantle 
and  bowed  himself  to  the  earth. 

The  tempest,  the  earthquake,  the  fire,  are  the  Unknown 
God  of  Nature ;  the  still,  small  voice  is  that  of  Jesus ! 

It  is  to  this  Teacher  so  lovable,  this  Guide  so  patient 
and  so  gracious,  that  our  Heavenly  Father  has  committed 
the  care  and  guidance  of  us  through  this  dark,  uncertain 
life  of  ours.  He  came  to  love  us,  to  teach  us,  to  save  us; 
and  not  merely  to  save  us,  but  to  save  us  in  the  kindest 
and  gentlest  way.  He  gives  himself  wholly  to  us,  for  all 
that  he  can  be  to  us,  and  in  return  asks  us  to  give  our- 
selves wholly  to  him.  Shall  we  not  do  it? 


THE   TOLERANCE    OF   JESUS  117 


XVII 

THE    TOLERANCE    OF    JESUS 

"We  saw  one  casting  out  devils,  and  he  followed  not  us;  and  we  for- 
bade him.    And  Jesus  said,  Forbid  him  not." 

THERE  is  nothing  in  which  our  Lord  so  far  exceeds  all 
his  followers  as  in  that  spirit  of  forbearance  and  tolerance 
which  he  showed  toward  every  effort,  however  imperfect, 
which  was  dictated  by  a  sincere  spirit.  Human  virtue  as 
it  grows  intense  is  liable  to  grow  narrow  and  stringent; 
but  divine  love  has  an  infinite  wideness  of  allowance. 

We  are  told  of  the  first  triumphant  zeal  of  the  twelve 
Apostles  when,  endued  with  miraculous  power,  they  went 
forth  healing  the  sick,  casting  out  devils,  and  preaching 
the  good  news  of  the  kingdom  to  the  poor.  They  came 
back  to  Jesus  exulting  in  their  new  success,  and  we  are 
told  they  said  unto  him,  "Lord,  we  saw  one  casting  out 
devils  in  thy  name,  and  we  forbade  him,  because  he  fol- 
lowed not  us." 

Jesus  said  unto  them,  "Forbid  him  not,  for  there  is  no 
man  that  will  do  a  miracle  in  my  name  that  will  lightly 
speak  evil  of  me.  For  he  that  is  not  against  us  is  on  -our 
side." 

Here  our  Lord  recognizes  the  principle  that  those  who 
seek  what  he  is  seeking,  and  are  striving  to  do  what  he 
is  doing,  are  in  fact  on  his  side,  even  although  they  may 
not  see  their  way  clear  to  follow  the  banner  of  his  commis- 
sioned Apostles  and  work  in  their  company.  Christ's  mis- 
sion as  he  defined  it  was  a  mission  of  healing  and  saving, 
a  mission  of  consolation  and  the  relief  of  human  misery; 
and  this  man  who  was  trying  to  cast  out  the  devils  in  his 
name  was  doing  his  work  and  moving  in  his  line,  although 
not  among  his  professed  disciples. 


118  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE   MASTER 

Jesus  always  recognized  the  many  "sheep  not  of  this 
fold  "  which  he  had  in  this  world  —  people  who  were  his 
followers  by  unity  of  intention  with  what  he  intended, 
though  they  might  never  have  known  him  personally. 
He  tells  the  Jews,  who  believed  in  a  narrow  and  peculiar 
church,  that  "many  shall  come  from  the  East  and  the 
West,  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and 
Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,7'  and  in  his  pictures  of 
the  last  Judgment  he  makes  the  final  award  turn  on  the 
simple  unity  of  spirit  and  purpose  with  Him  in  his  great 
work  of  mercy  for  mankind. 

We  see  intimated  that  the  accepted  ones  are  amazed  to 
find  themselves  recognized  as  having  shown  personal  regard 
to  Christ,  and  say,  "Lord,  when  saw  we  thee  hungry  or 
athirst  or  in  prison  and  ministered  to  thee  ? "  And  the 
reply  is,  "Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  me."  A  more  solemn 
declaration  cannot  be  given,  that  our  Lord  accepts  the  spirit 
which  is  in  unison  with  his  great  work  of  mercy  for  man- 
kind, as  the  best  offering  of  love  to  himself;  and  in  this 
sense  it  is  true  that  no  man  who  would  seek  to  do  miracles 
of  mercy  in  His  spirit  could  lightly  speak  evil  of  him. 

In  this  case  our  Lord  might  have  seen  that  the  arrogant, 
dictatorial  temper  which  had  come  upon  his  followers  in  the 
flush  of  their  first  success  might  have  disgusted  and  re- 
pelled a  sincere  man  who  was  really  trying  to  help  on  the 
good  work  in  which  Christ  was  engaged;  and  perhaps  he 
may  now  see,  as  he  looks  down  among  our  churches  here 
and  there,  some  good  man  in  his  own  peculiar  way  seeking 
to  do  the  work  of  the  Lord,  yet  repelled  from  following 
in  the  train  of  his  professed  disciples.  Instead  of  forbid- 
ding such  "because  they  follow  not  us,"  he  would  have  us 
draw  them  towards  us  by  sympathy  in  the  good  they  are 
doing,  trusting  in  our  Lord  to  enlighten  them  wherever 
they  may  need  more  distinct  light. 


THE   TOLERANCE   OF   JESUS  119 

The  Protestant  must  not  forbid  the  Komanist  mission 
whose  plain  object  seems  to  be  to  call  sinners  to  repent- 
ance, and  to  lead  professing  Christians  to  a  higher  and 
holier  life;  nor  must  the  Romanist  in  the  pride  of  ancient 
authority  forbid  the  Protestant  evangelist  that  is  seeking 
to  make  known  the  love  of  Jesus.  And  there  are  men  in 
our  times,  of  pure  natures  and  of  real  love  for  mankind, 
whose  faith  in  divine  revelation  is  shaken,  who  no  longer 
dare  to  say  they  believe  with  the  "orthodox,"  but  who  yet 
are  faithfully  striving  to  do  good  to  man,  to  heal  the  sick 
and  cast  out  the  devils  that  afflict  society.  Sad-hearted 
men  are  they  often,  working  without  the  cheer  that  in- 
spires the  undoubting  believer,  often  under  a  sense  of  the 
ban  of  the  professed  followers  of  Christ;  yet  the  infinite 
tolerance  of  our  Lord  is  leading  them  as  well  as  those  who 
more  formally  bear  his  name. 

It  was  Cyrus,  the  Persian  king,  who  worshiped  the 
Zoroastrian  gods,  that  is  called  in  the  prophecy  "God's 
shepherd ;  "  to  whom  God  says,  "  Cyrus,  whose  right  hand 
I  have  holden,  I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not  known 
me," 

Let  us  hope  that  there  are  many  whose  right  hand 
Christ  is  holding,  though  they  as  yet  know  him  not;  for 
He  it  is  who  says :  — 

"  I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  they  know  not.  I  will  make 
darkness  light  before  them,  and  crooked  things  straight :  these 
things  will  I  do  unto  them  and  not  forsake  them." 

It  pleased  our  Lord  to  number  among  the  twelve  Apos- 
tles one  of  those  natures  which  are  constitutionally  cautious 
and  skeptical.  Thomas  had  a  doubting  head  but  a  loving 
heart;  he  clung  to  Christ  by  affinity  of  spirit  and  personal 
love,  with  a  slow  and  doubting  intellect.  Whether  Jesus 
were  the  Messiah,  the  King  of  Israel,  destined  to  reign 
and  conquer,  Thomas,  though  sometimes  hoping,  was  some- 
what prone  to  doubt.  He  was  all  the  while  foreboding 


120  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

that  Christ  would  be  vanquished,  while  yet  determined  to 
stand  by  him  to  the  last.  When  Christ  announced  his 
purpose  to  go  again  into  Judaea,  where  his  life  had  been 
threatened,  Thomas  says,  —  and  there  seems  to  be  a  despair- 
ing sigh  in  the  very  words,  —  "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we 
may  die  with  him."  The  words  seemed  to  say,  "this  man 
may  be  mistaken,  after  all ;  but,  .living  or  dying,  I  must 
love  him,  and  if  he  dies,  I  die  too." 

Well,  the  true-hearted  doubter  lived  to  see  his  Lord 
die,  and  he  it  was,  of  all  the  disciples,  who  refused  to 
believe  the  glad  news  of  the  resurrection.  No  messenger, 
no  testimony,  nothing  that  anybody  else  had  seen  could 
convince  him.  He  must  put  his  own  hand  into  the  print 
of  the  nails  or  he  will  not  believe.  The  gracious  Master 
did  not  refuse  the  test.  "Reach  hither  thy  finger  and 
behold  my  hand,  and  reach  hither  thy  hand  and  thrust  it 
into  my  side,  and  be  not  faithless  but  believing,"  he  said, 
and  the  doubter  fell  at  his  feet  and  cried,  "My  Lord  and 
my  God!" 

There  was  but  a  gentle  word  of  reproof:  "Thomas,  be- 
cause thou  hast  seen  me  thou  hast  believed;  blessed  are 
they  that  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed."  It  is 
this  divine  wideness  of  spirit,  this  tolerance  of  love,  that 
is  the  most  characteristic  element  in  the  stages  which  mark 
the  higher  Christian  life.  Such  spirits  as  Fe'nelon,  Francis 
de  Sales,  John  Woolman,  and  the  apostle  Eliot,  seem  to 
have  risen  to  the  calm  regions  of  clear-sighted  love. 
Hence  the  maxim  of  Fenelon :  "  Only  perfection  can  toler- 
ate the  imperfect."  But  we,  in  our  way  to  those  regions, 
must  lay  down  our  harsh  judgments  of  others;  we  must 
widen  our  charity;  and,  as  we  bless  our  good  Shepherd  for 
his  patience  with  our  wanderings  and  failures,  must  learn 
to  have  patience  with  those  of  our  neighbors. 


THE   SILENCE   OF  JESUS  121 

XVIII 

THE    SILENCE    OF    JESUS 

IN  the  history  of  our  Lord's  life  nothing  meets  us  more 
frequently  than  his  power  of  reticence.  It  has  been  justly 
observed  that  the  things  that  he  did  not  say  and  do  are  as 
just  a  subject  of  admiration  as  the  things  that  he  said  and 
did. 

There  is  no  more  certain  indication  of  inward  strength 
than  the  power  of  silence.  Hence  the  proverb  that  speech 
is  silver  and  silence  is  golden.  The  Church  of  the  middle 
ages  had  her  treatises  on  "The  Grace  of  Silence." 

In  the  case  of  our  Lord  we  have  to  remember  first  the 
thirty  years  of  silence  that  preluded  his  ministry;  thirty 
years  in  which  he  lived  the  life  of  a  humble  artisan  in  the 
obscure  town  of  Nazareth.  That  he  was  during  those 
years  revolving  all  that  higher  wisdom  which  has  since 
changed  the  whole  current  of  human  society  there  is  little 
doubt.  That  his  was  a  spirit  from  earliest  life  ardent  and 
eager,  possessed  with  the  deepest  enthusiasm,  we  learn 
from  the  one  revealing  flash  in  the  incident  recorded  of  his 
childhood,  when  he  entered  the  school  of  the  doctors  in 
the  temple  and  became  so  absorbed  in  hearing  and  asking 
questions  that  time,  place,  and  kindred  were  all  forgotten. 
Yet,  eager  as  he  was,  he  made  no  petulant  objection  to  his 
mother's  recall,  but  went  down  to  Nazareth  with  his 
parents  and  was  subject  to  them.  This  ardent  soul  re- 
treated within  itself,  and  gathered  itself  up  in  silence  and 
obedience. 

When,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  he  rose  in  the  synagogue  of 
his  native  place  and  declared  his  great  and  beautiful  mis- 
sion it  is  quite  evident  that  he  took  everybody  by  surprise. 
No  former  utterances,  nothing  in  his  previous  life,  had 


122  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE  MASTER 

prepared  his  townsfolk  for  this.  They  said,  "  How  know- 
eth  this  man  letters  1  Is  not  this  the  carpenter  ?  "  What 
habitual  silence  and  reticence  is  here  indicated !  For  this 
was  the  same  Jesus  whose  words,  when  he  did  speak,  had 
that  profound  and  penetrating  power  that  stirred  the  hearts 
of  men,  and  have  gone  on  since  stirring  them  as  no  other 
utterances  ever  did.  But  when  he  did  speak  his  words 
were  more  mighty  from  the  accumulated  force  of  repres- 
sion. They  fell  concentrated  and  sparkling  like  diamonds 
that  had  been  slowly  crystallizing  in  those  years  of  silence; 
they  were  utterances  for  time  and  for  eternity. 

In  like  manner  we  see  numerous  indications  that  he 
withdrew  from  all  that  was  popular  and  noisy  and  merely 
sensational  with  a  deep  and  real  distaste.  So  far  as  possi- 
ble he  wrought  his  miracles  privately.  He  enjoined  reti- 
cence and  silence  on  his  disciples.  He  said,  "The  king- 
dom of  God  cometh  not  with  observation."  He  pointed 
to  the  grain  of  mustard  seed  and  the  hidden  leaven  as 
types  of  its  power. 

In  the  same  way  we  see  him  sometimes  receiving  in 
silence  prayers  for  help  which  he  intended  to  answer. 
When  the  Syro-Phoenician  woman  cried  to  him  to  heal  her 
daughter,  it  is  said  "he  answered  her  never  a  wrord;"  yet 
healing  was  in  his  heart.  His  silence  was  the  magnet  to 
draw  forth  her  desire,  to  intensify  her  faith  and  reveal  to 
his  disciples  what  there  was  in  her. 

So,  too,  when  word  was  sent  from  the  sisters  of  Beth- 
any, "Lord,  behold  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick,"  he 
received  it  in  the  same  silence.  It  is  said,  "Jesus  loved 
Martha  and  her  sister  and  Lazarus ;  when  he  had  heard, 
therefore,  that  he  was  sick,  he  abode  two  days  still  in  the 
same  place  where  he  was."  In  those  two  days  of  apparent 
silent  neglect,  how  many  weary  hours  to  the  anxious 
friends  watching  for  him  who  could  help,  and  who  yet  did 
not  come!  But  the  silence  and  the  wailing  ended  in  a 


THE   SILENCE   OF   JESUS  123 

deeper  joy  at  the  last.  The  sorrow  of  one  family  was 
made  the  means  of  a  record  of  the  Saviour's  tenderness 
and  sympathy  and  his  triumphant  power  over  death,  which 
is  for  all  time  and  for  every  mourner.  As  he  gave  Lazarus 
back  whole  and  uninjured  from  the  grave,  so  he  then  and 
there  promised  to  do  for  every  one  who  believes  in  him: 
"He  that  belie veth  on  me  shall  never  die." 

In  the  family  of  the  Saviour  was  a  false  friend  whose 
falseness  was  better  known  to  the  Master  than  perhaps  to 
himself.  He  knew  the  falsity  of  Judas  to  his  trust  in  the 
management  of  the  family  purse,  yet  he  was  silent.  He 
sought  the  sympathy  of  no  friend;  he  did  not  expose  him 
to  the  others.  From  time  to  time  he  threw  out  general 
warnings  that  there  was  one  among  them  that  was  untrue 
—  warnings  addressed  to  his  conscience  alone.  But  he 
changed  in  no  degree  his  manner  toward  him;  he  did  not 
withhold  the  kiss  at  meeting  and  parting,  nor  refuse  to 
wash  his  feet  with  the  others;  and  the  traitor  went  out 
from  the  last  meeting  to  finish  his  treachery,  leaving  his 
brethren  ignorant  of  his  intended  crime.  This  loving, 
forbearing  silence  with  an  enemy  —  keeping  him  in  his 
family,  treating  him  with  unchanging  love  yet  with  warn- 
ing faithfulness,  never  uttering  a  word  of  complaint  and 
parting  at  last  in  sorrow  more  than  anger  —  was  the  practi- 
cal comment  left  by  Jesus  on  his  own  words:  "Love  your 
enemies,  that  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven;  for  he  maketh  his  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil 
and  on  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the 
unjust."  This,  the  last,  the  highest  grade  in  the  science 
of  love,  is  one  that  few  Christians  even  come  within  sight 
of.  To  bear  an  enemy  near  one's  person,  perfectly  to 
understand  his  machinations,  and  yet  feel  only  unchanging 
love  and  pity,  carefully  to  guard  his  character,  never  to 
communicate  to  another  the  evil  that  we  perceive,  to  go 
on  in  kindness  as  the  sunshine  goes  on  in  nature  —  this  is 


124  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

an  attainment  so  seldom  made  that  when  made  it  is  hard 
to  be  understood.  If  the  example  of  Jesus  is  to  be  the 
rule  by  which  our  attainments  are  finally  to  be  measured, 
who  can  stand  in  the  judgment? 

The  silence  of  Jesus  in  his  last  trial  before  Herod  and 
Pilate  is  no  less  full  of  sublime  suggestion.  We  see  him 
standing  in  a  crowd  of  enemies  clamorous,  excited,  eager, 
with  false  witnesses  distorting  his  words,  disagreeing  with 
each  other,  agreeing  only  in  one  thing:  the  desire  for  his 
destruction.  And  Pilate  says,  "  Answerest  thou  nothing  ? 
Behold  how  many  things  they  witness  against  thee."  It 
was  the  dead  silence  that  more  than  anything  else  troubled 
and  perplexed  the  Roman  governor.  After  he  has  given 
up  his  victim  to  the  brutalities  of  the  soldiery,  to  the 
scourging  and  the  crown  of  thorns,  he  sends  for  him  again 
for  a  private  examination.  "  Whence  art  thou  1  Speakest 
thou  not  to  me  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that  I  have  power  to 
crucify  thee  and  power  to  release  thee  ?  "  In  all  the  brief 
replies  of  Jesus  there  is  no  effort  to  clear  himself,  no  denial 
of  the  many  things  witnessed  against  him.  In  fact,  from 
the  few  things  that  he  did  say  on  the  way  to  the  cross,  it 
would  seem  that  his  soul  abode  calmly  in  that  higher 
sphere  of  love  in  which  he  looked  down  with  pity  on  the 
vulgar  brutality  that  surrounded  him.  The  poor  ignorant 
populace  shouting  they  knew  not  what,  the  wretched 
scribes  and  chief  priests  setting  the  seal  of  doom  on  their 
nation,  the  stolid  Eoman  soldiers  trained  in  professional 
hardness  and  cruelty  —  he  looked  down  on  them  all  with 
pity.  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem, "  he  said  to  the  weeping 
women,  "weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves  and 
for  your  children."  And  a  few  moments  later,  "Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

We  are  told  by  the  Apostles  that  this  Jesus  is  the  image 
of  the  invisible  God.  The  silence  of  God  in  presence  of 
so  much  that  moves  human  passions  is  one  of  the  most 


THE   SECRET   OF   PEACE  125 

awful  things  for  humanity  to  contemplate.  But  if  Jesus 
is  his  image  this  silence  is  not  wrathful  or  contemptuous, 
but  full  of  pity  and  forgiveness. 

The  silence  and  the  great  darkness  around  the  cross  of 
Calvary  were  not  the  silence  of  gathering  wrath  and  doom. 
God,  the  forgiving,  was  there,  and  the  way  was  preparing 
for  a  new  and  unequaled  era  of  forgiving  mercy.  The 
rejected  Jesus  was  exalted  to  the  right  hand  of  God,  not 
to  fulfill  a  mission  of  wrath,  but  to  "give  repentance  and 
remission  of  sins." 

XIX 

THE    SECRET    OF    PEACE        '    • 

PEACE  !  Is  there  in  fact  such  a  thing  as  an  attainable 
habit  of  mind  that  can  remain  at  peace,  no  matter  what 
external  circumstances  may  be ?  No  matter  what  worries ; 
no  matter  what  perplexities,  what  thwartings,  what  cares, 
what  dangers;  no  matter  what  slanders,  Avhat  revilings, 
what  persecutions  —  is  it  possible  to  keep  an  immovable 
peace?  When  our  dearest  friends  are  taken  from  us, 
when  those  we  love  are  in  deadly  danger  from  hour  to 
hour,  is  it  possible  still  to  be  in  peace  ?  When  our  plans 
of  life  are  upset,  when  fortune  fails,  when  debt  and  em- 
barrassment come  down,  is  it  possible  to  be  at  peace? 
When  suddenly  called  to  die,  or  to  face  sorrows  that  are 
worse  than  death,  is  it  possible  still  to  be  at  peace? 

Yes,  it  is.  This  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion—  the  special  gift  of  Christ  to  every  soul  that  will 
receive  it  from  him.  In  his  hour  of  deepest  anguish,  when 
every  earthly  resort  was  failing  him,  when  he  was  about 
to  be  deserted,  denied,  betrayed,  tortured  even  unto  death, 
he  had  this  great  gift  of  peace,  and  he  left  it  as  a  legacy 
to  his  followers :  — 


126  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

"  Peace  I  leave  with  you ;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you.  Not  as 
the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you." 

He  says  himself  that  his  peace  is  not  what  the  world 
giveth.  It  does  not  come  from  anything  in  this  life;  it 
cannot  be  taken  away  by  anything  in  this  life ;  it  is  wholly 
divine.  As  a  white  dove  looks  brighter  and  fairer  against 
a  black  thunder-cloud,  so  Christ's  peace  is  brightest  and 
sweetest  in  darkness  and  adversity. 

Is  not  this  rest  of  the  soul,  this  perfect  peace,  worth 
having?  Do  the  majority  of  Christians  have  it?  Would 
it  not  lengthen  the  days  and  strengthen  the  health  of  many 
a  man  and  woman  if  they  could  attain  it  ?  But  how  shall 
we  get  this  gift  ?  That  is  an  open  secret.  St.  Paul  told 
it  to  the  Philippians  in  one  simple  direction :  — 

"Be  not  anxious  about  anything,  but  in  everything,  by 
prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests 
be  made  known  unto  God ;  and  the  peace  of  God  that  passeth 
understanding  shall  keep  your  heart  and  mind." 

There  we  have  it. 

Now  if  we  look  back  to  the  history  of  these  Philippians, 
as  told  in  the  Book  of  Acts,  we  shall  see  that  when  Paul 
exhorted  them  never  to  be  anxious  about  anything,  but 
always  with  thanksgiving  to  let  their  wants  be  known  to 
God,  he  preached  exactly  what  they  had  seen  him  practice 
among  them.  For  this  Philippian  church  was  at  first  a 
little  handful  of  people  gathered  to  Jesus  by  hearing  Paul 
talk  in  a  prayer-meeting  held  one  Sunday  morning  by  the 
riverside.  There  Lydia,  the  seller  of  fine  linen  from 
Thyatira,  first  believed  with  her  house,  and  a  little  band 
of  Christians  was  gathered.  But  lo!  in  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  good  work  a  tumult  was  raised,  and 
Paul  and  Silas  were  swooped  down  upon  by  the  jealous 
Roman  authorities,  ignominiously  and  cruelly  scourged, 
and  then  carried  to  prison  and  shut  up  with  their  feet  fast 
in  the  stocks.  Here  was  an  opportunity  to  test  their 


THE   SECKET   OF   PEACE  127 

serenity.  Did  their  talisman  work,  or  did  it  fail  ?  What 
did  the  Apostles  do ?  We  are  told :  "At  midnight  Paul 
and  Silas  prayed  and  sang  praises  to  God,  and  the  prisoners 
heard  them."  That  prayer  went  up  with  a  shout  of  vic- 
tory —  it  was  as  Paul  directs,  prayer  and  supplication  with 
thanksgiving.  Then  came  the  opening  of  prison  doors, 
the  loosing  of  bonds,  and  the  jailer  fell  trembling  at  the 
feet  of  his  captives,  saying,  "  Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be 
saved? "  And  that  night  the  jailer  and  all  his  house  were 
added  to  the  church  at  Philippi.  So,  about  eleven  years 
after,  when  Paul's  letter  came  back  from  Rome  to  the 
Philippian  church  and  was  read  out  in  their  prayer-meet- 
ing, we  can  believe  that  the  old  Roman  jailer,  now  a  lead- 
ing brother  in  the  church,  said,  "Ay  !  ay  !  he  teaches 
just  what  he  practised.  I  remember  how  he  sung  and 
rejoiced  there  in  that  old  prison  at  midnight.  Nothing 
ever  disturbs  him."  And  they  remember,  too,  that  this 
cheerful,  joyful,  courageous  letter  comes  from  one  who  is 
again  a  prisoner,  chained  night  and  day  to  a  Eoman  sol- 
dier, and  it  gives  all  the  more  force  to  his  inspiring  direc- 
tion :  "  Be  anxious  for  nothing  —  in  everything,  by  prayer 
and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be 
made  known  unto  God." 

If  Paul  had  been  like  us,  now,  how  many  excuses  he 
might  have  had  for  being  in  a  habitual  worry !  How  was 
he  shut  up  and  hindered  in  his  work  of  preaching  the  gos- 
pel. A  prisoner  at  Borne  while  churches  that  needed  him 
were  falling  into  divers  temptations  for  want  of  him  — 
how  he  might  have  striven  with  his  lot,  how  he  might 
have  wondered  why  God  allowed  the  enemy  so  to  triumph. 

But  it  appears  he  was  perfectly  quiet.  "  I  know  how  to 
be  abased,  and  how  to  abound,"  he  says;  "everywhere, 
and  in  all  things,  I  am  instructed  both  to  be  full  and  to 
be  hungry,  both  to  abound  and  suffer  need.  I  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  that  strengthened  me." 


128  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

But  say  some,  "Do  you  suppose  if  you  go  to  God  about 
everything  that  troubles  you  it  will  do  any  good  ?  If  you 
do  ask  him  for  help,  will  you  get  it  1 " 

If  this  means,  Will  God  always  give  you  the  blessing 
you  want,  or  remove  the  pain  you  feel,  in  answer  to  your 
prayer?  the  answer  must  be,  Certainly  not. 

Paul  prayed  often  and  with  intense  earnestness  for  the 
removal  of  a  trial  so  sharp  and  severe  that  he  calls  it 
a  thorn  in  his  flesh.  It  was  something  that  he  felt  to  be 
unbearable,  and  he  prayed  the  Lord  to  take  it  away,  but 
the  Lord  did  not ;  he  only  said  to  him,  "  My  grace  is  suffi- 
cient for  thee.  My  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

The  permission  in  all  things  to  let  our  requests  be  made 
known  to  God  would  be  a  fatal  one  for  us  if  it  meant  that 
God  would  always  give  us  what  we  ask.  When  we  come 
to  see  the  record  of  our  life  as  it  is  written  in  heaven,  we 
shall  see  some  of  our  best  occasions  of  thankfulness  under 
the  head  of  "prayers  denied." 

Did  you  ever  see  a  little  child  rushing  home  from  school 
in  hot  haste,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  tearful  eyes,  burn- 
ing and  smarting  under  some  fancied  or  real  injustice  or 
injury  in  his  school  life?  He  runs  through  the  street; 
he  rushes  into  the  house;  he  puts  off  every  one  who  tries 
to  comfort  him.  "No,  no!  he  doesn't  want  them;  he 
wants  mother;  he  's  going  to  tell  mother."  And  when  he 
finds  her  he  throws  himself  into  her  arms  and  sobs  out  to 
her  all  the  tumult  of  his  feelings,  right  or  wrong,  reason- 
able or  unreasonable.  "The  school  is  hateful;  the  teacher 
is  hard,  and  the  lessons  are  too  long;  he  can't  learn  them, 
and  the  boys  laugh  at  him,  and  won't  she  say  he  needn't 
go  any  more  ?  " 

Now,  though  the  mother  does  not  grant  his  foolish  peti- 
tions, she  soothes  him  by  sympathy;  she  calms  him;  she 
reasons  with  him ;  she  inspires  him  with  courage  to  meet 
the  necessary  trials  of  school  life  —  in  short,  her  grace  is 


THE   SECRET   OF  PEACE  129 

sufficient  for  her  boy;  her  strength  perfects  his  weakness. 
He  comes  out  tranquilized,  calm,  and  happy  —  not  that 
he  is  going  to  get  his  own  foolish  wishes,  but  that  his 
mother  has  taken  the  matter  in  hand  and  is  going  to  look 
into  it,  and  the  right  thing  is  going  to  be  done. 

This  is  an  exact  illustration  of  the  kind  of  help  it  is  for 
us  "in  everything  by  prayer  to  make  known  our  requests 
to  God."  The  very  act  of  confidence  is  in  itself  tranquil- 
izing,  and  the  divine  sympathy  meets  and  sustains  it. 

A  large  class  of  our  annoyances  and  worries  are  extin- 
guished or  lessened  by  the  very  act  of  trying  to  tell  them 
to  such  a  person  as  Jesus  Christ.  They  are  our  burning 
injuries,  our  sense  of  wrong  and  injustice  done  us.  When 
we  go  to  tell  Jesus  how  cruelly  and  wickedly  some  other 
Christian  has  treated  us,  we  immediately  begin  to  feel  as 
a  child  who  is  telling  his  mother  about  his  brother  —  both 
equally  dear.  Our  anger  gradually  changes  to  a  kind  of 
sorrow  when  we  think  of  Him  as  grieved  by  our  differ- 
ences. After  all,  we  are  speaking  of  one  whom  Christ  is 
caring  for  and  bearing  with  just  as  he  is  caring  for  us,  and 
the  thought  takes  away  the  edge  of  our  indignation;  a 
place  is  found  for  peace. 

Then  there  is  still  another  class  of  troubles  that  would 
be  cut  off  and  smothered  altogether  by  the  honest  effort 
to  tell  them  to  our  Saviour.  All  the  troubles  that  come 
from  envy,  from  wanting  to  be  as  fine,  as  distinguished, 
as  successful  as  our  neighbors;  all  the  troubles  that  come 
from  running  races  with  our  neighbors  in  dress,  household 
show,  parties,  the  strife  "  who  shall  be  the  greatest  "  trans- 
ferred to  the  little  petty  sphere  of  fashionable  life  —  ah,  if 
those  who  are  burdened  with  cares  of  this  kind  would  just 
once  honestly  bring  them  to  Jesus  and  hear  what  he  would 
have  to  say  about  them !  They  might  leave  them  at  his 
feet  and  go  away  free  and  happy. 

But  whatever  burden  or  care  we  take  to  Jesus,  if  we 


130  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

would  get  the  peace  promised,  we  must  leave  it  with  Him 
as  entirely  as  the  little  child  leaves  his  school  troubles 
with  his  mother.  We  must  come  away  and  treat  it  as  a 
finality.  We  must  say,  Christ  has  taken  that.  Christ 
will  see  about  it.  And  then  we  must  stop  thinking  and 
worrying  about  it.  We  must  resolve  to  be  satisfied  with 
whatever  may  be  his  disposal  of  the  matter,  even  if  it  is 
not  at  all  what  we  would  have  chosen. 

Paul  would  much  sooner  have  chosen  to  be  free  and 
travel  through  the  churches,  but  Christ  decided  to  allow 
him  to  remain  a  chained  prisoner  at  Rome,  and  there  Paul 
learned  to  rest,  and  he  was  happy  in  Christ's  will.  Christ 
settled  it  for  him,  and  he  was  at  peace. 

If,  then,  by  following  this  one  rule  we  can  always  be  at 
rest,  how  true  are  the  lines  of  the  hymn  now  so  often 
sung : — 

"  Oh,  what  joy  we  often  forfeit ! 

Oh,  what  needless  pain  we  bear  ! 
All  because  we  do  not  carry 
Everything  to  God  in  prayer." 

XX 

THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  MASTER 

WHAT  is  the  true  idea  of  a  Christian  church,  and  what 
the  temper  and  spirit  in  which  its  affairs  should  be  con- 
ducted ? 

For  this  inquiry  certainly  we  are  not  to  go  back  to  New 
England  or  Cotton  Mather  primarily,  nor  yet  to  the  earlier 
Anglican  authorities,  or  the  long  line  of  Roman  precedent, 
and  the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  nor  even  to  the  Apostolic 
churches,  but  to  Jesus  Christ  himself,  and  to  the  earliest 
association  that  could  be  called  a  Christian  church. 

There  is  a  difference  in  this  discussion  between  the, 
Church  and  a  church.  The  Church  is  the  great  generic 


THE   CHURCH   OF   THE   MASTER  131 

unity  or  outside  organization;  a  church  is  a  society  related 
to  the  whole,  as  a  private  family  to  the  State. 

In  the  time  of  our  Lord  the  generic  body  —  the  Church 
of  God  —  was  the  Jewish  church.  Jesus  was  a  regularly 
initiated  member  of  that  church,  and  very  careful  never 
to  depart  from  any  of  its  forms  or  requirements.  He 
announced  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  that,  in  regard  to 
the  Jewish  law,  he  was  not  come  to  destroy  but  to  fulfill. 
He  said  distinctly  to  his  disciples:  "The  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  sit  in  Moses'  seat:  all  things  therefore  whatsoever 
they  bid  you  observe,  that  observe  and  do;  but  do  ye  not 
after  their  works,  for  they  say  and  do  not."  The  Apos- 
tles never  separated  formally  from  the  Jewish  church. 
They  were  so  careful  in  this  regard  that  they  on  one  occa- 
sion induced  St.  Paul,  who  was  reported  to  be  a  schismatic, 
to  go  in  a  very  marked  and  public  manner  into  the  Jewish 
temple  and  conform  to  the  Jewish  ritual;  and  when  he 
addressed  a  company  of  Jews  on  one  occasion  he  com- 
menced with  the  words:  "Men  and  brethren,  I  am  a 
Pharisee  and  the  son  of  a  Pharisee."  He  elsewhere  speaks 
of  the  perf  ectness  of  this  initiation  into  all  the  customs  and 
privileges  of  the  national  church  —  that  he  was  a  Hebrew 
of  the  Hebrews. 

The  Christian  Church  arose  inside  the  Jewish  church, 
exactly  as  the  Methodists  arose  inside  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. They  were  a  society  professing  subjection  and 
obedience  to  the  national  church  in  all  respects  where  the 
higher  law  of  God  did  not  require  them  to  go  against 
earthly  ordinances.  Thus,  when  the  Jewish  Sanhedrim 
forbade  the  Apostles  to  preach  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  they 
answered,  "Whether  it  be  right  in  the  sight  of  God  to 
hearken  unto  you  more  than  unto  God,  judge  ye."  In 
like  spirit  did  John  Wesley  and  his  ministers  answer  the 
bishops  when  they  tried  to  shut  their  mouths  from  preach- 
ing the  gospel  to  the  poor  of  England. 


132  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

But  in  the  mean  time  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  the 
Lord  Jesus  gradually  formed  around  himself  as  a  personal 
centre  an  organization  of  disciples,  both  men  and  women. 
This  band  of  disciples  may  be  looked  upon  as  the  seed 
form  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  the  order  of  their  union 
having  been  administered  immediately  by  the  Master  must 
be  studied  as  conveying  the  best  example  of  the  spirit  and 
temper,  though  not  necessarily  the  exact  form,  in  which 
all  churches  should  be  constituted. 

That  this  company  of  believers  was  regularly  organized, 
and  perfectly  recognized  as  an  organization,  appears  from  a 
passage  in  Acts,  where  it  is  said  that  after  the  ascension 
of  our  Lord  this  little  church  came  together  and  abode 
together  for  several  days.  The  names  of  many  of  them 
are  given  —  the  eleven  Apostles,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  his 
brethren,  and  several  others,  called  in  the  enumeration 
"the  women,"  are  mentioned,  and  it  is  further  stated  that 
"the  number  of  them  was  about  one  hundred  and  twenty." 

St.  Paul  indeed  speaks  of  an  occasion  on  which  Christ, 
after  his  resurrection,  appeared  to  five  hundred  disciples 
at  once,  of  whom  he  says  the  greater  part  were  living  when 
he  wrote.  This  hundred  and  twenty  were  probably  such 
a  portion  of  the  whole  company  of  disciples  as  had  their 
residence  in  and  about  Jerusalem,  and  could  therefore 
conveniently  assemble  together.  We  first  see  them  called 
together  to  perform  a  corporate  act  in  filling  a  vacancy 
among  their  officers.  The  twelve  by  the  appointment  of 
the  Lord  had  occupied  a  peculiar  position  of  leadership. 
The  place  of  one  of  these  being  vacated  by  the  death  of 
Judas,  the  little  church  is  summoned  to  assist  in  the  elec- 
tion of  a  successor.  The  speech  of  Peter  is  remarkable  as 
showing  that  he  considered  the  persons  he  addressed  as 
a  body  competent  to  transact  business  and  fill  vacancies. 
After  relating  the  death  and  fate  of  Judas,  he  ends  by 
saying,  "Wherefore,  from  these  men  that  have  companied 


THE   CHUKCH   OF  THE   MASTER  133 

with  us  all  the  time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out 
among  us  must  one  be  ordained  to  be  a  witness  with  us  of 
his  resurrection."  Here,  then,  are  all  the  evidences  of 
a  regularly  trained  church  already  in  existence  when  our 
Lord  left  the  world. 

But  if  we  look  at  the  twentieth  chapter  of  John  we  shall 
see  that  the  little  company  that  performed  this  act  had 
been  previously  ordained  and  inspired  by  Jesus,  and  wisdom 
had  been  promised  to  guide  their  proceedings. 

It  is  said  that  immediately  after  Christ's  resurrection  — 
after  he  had  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene  —  he  suddenly 
appeared  in  an  assembly  of  the  disciples,  showed  them  his 
hands  and  his  side,  said  to  them,  "Peace  be  unto  you," 
breathed  on  them,  and  said,  "Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost: 
whosesoever  sins  ye  remit  they  are  remitted  unto  them, 
and  whosesoever  sins  ye  retain  they  are  retained."  The 
disciples  spoken  of  here  were  the  whole  company  of  be- 
lievers who  yet  remained  faithful  —  not  merely  the  eleven, 
since  one  of  the  eleven  at  least  was  absent. 

The  words  of  the  promise  are  not  to  be  superstitiously 
interpreted,  as  they  have  been,  as  giving  an  arbitrary, 
irresponsible  power  to  an  aristocracy  in  the  church,  but  as 
expressing  this  great  truth:  that  whenever  a  body  of 
Christians  are  acting  under  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  under  a  high  and  heavenly  state  of  Christian  feel- 
ing, their  decisions  will  be  in  sympathy  with  God  and  be 
ratified  in  heaven.  It  is  only  to  those  who  receive  the 
Holy  Ghost  that  such  power  pertains. 

Having  shown,  then,  that  Christ  left  a  trained,  inspired, 
ordained  church  of  believers  to  perpetuate  his  work  on 
earth,  it  now  becomes  interesting  to  go  back  and  watch 
the  process  by  which  he  trained  them. 

The  history  of  the  formation  and  gradual  education  of 
this  church  is  interesting,  because,  although  the  visible 
presence  of  the  Master  made  it  differ  from  any  subsequent 


134  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

church,  yet  the  spirit  and  temper  in  which  he  guided  it 
are  certainly  a  model  for  all.  Christ's  visible  presence 
relieved  them  from  all  responsibility  as  to  discipline.  He 
governed  personally,  and  settled  every  question  as  it  rose. 
In  this  respect  no  other  church  can  be  like  it.  But  the 
invisible  Christ,  the  Christ  in  the  heart  of  all  believers, 
ought  to  be  with  every  church,  that  it  may  be  carried  on 
in  spirit  as  Christ  conducted  his. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  Christ  carried  on  this  his  first 
church  as  a  family,  of  which  he  was  the  father,  and  in 
which  the  law  was  love.  He  said  to  his  disciples,  "All 
ye  are  brethren;"  he  addressed  them  habitually  as  "chil- 
dren," sometimes  as  "little  children,"  and  laid  on  them 
with  emphasis  a  new  commandment,  that  they  should  love 
one  another  as  he  had  loved  them.  The  old  command- 
ment, given  by  Moses,  was,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself;  the  new  commandment  of  Christ  was,  Love 
one  another  as  I  have  loved  you  —  better  than  self.  St. 
John  interprets  this  thus:  Hereby  we  perceive  the  love 
of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for  us.  We  ought 
also  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the  brethren. 

This  church  or  family  of  Christ  was  very  wide  and  free 
in  its  invitation  to  any  to  join,  and  many  did  join  them- 
selves, so  that  at  times  portions  of  them  traveled  with  him 
as  a  missionary  family  from  place  to  place. 

Thus,  in  Luke  viii.,  we  read  that  "it  came  to  pass  that 
he  went  through  every  city  and  village  preaching  and 
showing  the  glad  tidings  of  the  kingdom;  and  the  twelve 
were  with  him,  and  certain  women  whom  he  had  healed 
of  evil  spirits  and  infirmities;  Mary,  called  Magdalene, 
and  Joanna,  the  wife  of  Chusa,  Herod's  steward,  and 
Susanna,  and  many  others,  who  also  ministered  unto  him 
of  their  substance." 

This  cooperation  of  women  in  the  missionary  church 
would  in  some  countries  have  given  an  occasion  of  offense 


THE   CHURCH   OF   THE   MASTER  135 

and  scandal.  But  the  laws  and  institutions  of  Moses  had 
prepared  a  nation  in  which  the  moral  and  religious  mission 
of  woman  was  fully  recognized.  Prophetesses  and  holy 
women,  inspired  by  God,  had  always  held  an  important 
place  in  its  history,  and  it  was  in  full  accord  with  the 
national  sense  of  propriety  that  woman  should  hold  a  con- 
spicuous place  in  the  new  society  of  Jesus.  It  is  remark- 
able, too,  that  the  bitterest  and  most  vituperative  attacks 
on  the  character  of  Jesus  which  appeared  in  early  centuries 
never  found  cause  of  scandal  in  this  direction. 

These  pious  women  exercised,  for  the  benefit  of  our 
Lord  and  his  disciples,  the  peculiar  gifts  of  their  sex  — 
they  ministered  to  them  as  women  best  know  how.  One 
of  them  was  the  wife  of  a  man  of  high  rank  in  Herod's 
court.  Several  of  them  appear  to  have  been  possessed  of 
property.  Some  of  them,  however,  were  reclaimed  women 
of  formerly  sinful  life,  but  now  redeemed.  The  wife  of 
Herod's  steward,  and  the  spotless  matron,  the  mother  of 
James  and  John,  did  not  scruple  to  receive  to  their  fellow- 
ship and  sisterly  love  the  redeemed  Mary  Magdalene,  "out 
of  whom  went  seven  devils." 

The  contributions  for  the  support  of  this  mission  church 
became  so  considerable,  and  the  care  of  providing  for  its 
material  wants  so  onerous,  as  to  require  the  services  of 
a  steward,  and  one  of  the  twelve,  who  had  a  peculiar  turn 
for  financial  cares,  was  appointed  to  this  office.  Judas 
made  all  the  purchases  for  the  company,  dispensed  its 
charities,  and,  as  financier,  felt  at  liberty  to  comment 
severely  on  the  "waste"  shown  by  the  grateful  Mary. 

It  seems  that  Judas  was  a  type  of  that  class  of  men  who 
seek  the  church  from  worldly  motives.  The  treatment  of 
this  treacherous  friend  by  Jesus  is  a  model  that  cannot  be 
too  earnestly  studied  by  every  Christian.  St.  John  says, 
"Jesus  knew  from  the  beginning  who  they  were  that 
believed  not,  and  who  should  betray  him."  But  he  carried 


136  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

himself  towards  him  with  the  same  unvarying  and  tender 
sweetness  that  he  showed  to  all  the  rest.  He  was  Love 
itself.  He  could  not  possibly  associate  with  another  with- 
out love,  and  there  was  something  peculiarly  delicate  and 
forbearing  in  his  treatment  of  Judas  (as  is  more  fully  con- 
sidered in  our  next  chapter). 

He  might  easily  have  exposed  him  before  his  brethren, 
but  he  would  not  do  it.  It  seems  from  the  narrative  that 
even  when  Judas  left  the  little  company  to  complete  his 
crime,  the  simple-hearted  disciples  knew  not  where  he  was 
going. 

There  was  no  calling  him  to  account,  no  exposure,  no 
denunciation,  no  excommunication.  Why  this  care,  this 
peculiar  reticence,  on  the  Master's  part?  It  was  a  part  of 
his  system  of  teaching  his  family  what  he  meant  when  he 
said,  Love  your  enemies.  It  was  a  way  of  teaching  that, 
when  they  came  to  understand  it  fully,  they  never  would 
forget.  Moreover,  during  his  whole  life,  in  all  his  teach- 
ings to  this  little  church,  his  main  object  was  that  they 
should  be  rooted  and  grounded  in  that  kind  of  love  which 
no  injury,  or  cruelty,  or  perfidy  can  change,  the  kind  of 
love  which  he  showed  when  he  prayed  for  those  who  were 
piercing  his  hands  and  feet.  But  he  found  them  not  apt 
scholars.  They  were  apt  and  ready  in  the  science  of 
wrath.  With  them  the  way  of  anger  and  what  is  called 
righteous  indignation  went  down  hill,  but  he  always  held 
them  back.  When  a  village  refused  to  receive  the  Master, 
it  was  James  and  John  who  were  ready  to  propose  to  call 
down  fire  from  heaven,  as  Elias  did.  But  he  told  them 
they  knew  not  what  manner  of  spirit  they  were  of;  the 
mission  of  the  Son  of  man  was  to  save  —  not  to  kill. 

As  a  delicate  musician  shudders  to  strike  a  discord,  so 
Jesus  would  not  excite  among  his  little  children  the 
tumult  of  wrath  and  indignation  that  would  be  sure  to 
arise  did  they  fully  know  the  treachery  of  Judas.  He  so 


THE  CHURCH   OF   THE   MASTER  137 

carried  himself  that  the  evil  element  departed  from  them 
without  a  convulsion,  by  the  calm  expulsive  force  of  moral 
influences.  He  bore  with  Judas  patiently,  sweetly,  lov- 
ingly, to  the  very  last.  He  kept  the  knowledge  of  his 
treachery  in  his  own  bosom  till  of  his  own  free  will  the 
traitor  departed. 

There  is  something  so  above  human  nature  in  this  —  it 
is  such  unworldly  sweetness,  such  celestial  patience,  that 
it  is  difficult  for  us  at  our  usual  level  of  life  to  understand 
it.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  these  expressions  of  love 
which  Jesus  continued  to  Judas  were  not  a  policy,  but  a 
simple  reality,  that  he  loved  and  pitied  the  treacherous 
friend  as  a  mother  loves  and  pities  the  unworthy  son  who 
is  whitening  her  hair  and  breaking  her  heart,  and  that  the 
kiss  he  gave  was  always  sincere. 

It  is  an  example,  too,  that  may  with  advantage  be  stud- 
ied in  conducting  the  discipline  of  a  church.  Here  was 
the  worst  of  criminals  meditating  the  deepest  injuries,  the 
worst  of  crimes,  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  infant  church, 
yet  our  Lord  so  bore  with  him,  so  ruled  and  guided  his 
little  family  that  there  was  no  quarrel  and  struggle,  —  that 
the  very  best  and  most  was  made  of  his  talents  as  long  as 
they  could  be  used  for  good,  —  and  when  he  departed  the 
church  was  not  rent  and  torn  as  a  demoniac  by  the  passage 
from  them  of  an  evil  spirit. 

But  there  were  other  respects  in  which  Jesus  trained  his 
church,  besides  that  of  managing  a  discordant  element 
within  it.  There  were  many  who  would  become  disciples 
from  sudden  impulse  or  sympathy,  who  had  not  the  moral 
stamina  to  go  on  to  spiritual  perfection.  Aware  of  this, 
the  Master,  while  ever  gracious,  ever  ready  to  receive, 
exacted  no  binding  pledge  or  oath.  He  displayed  no 
eagerness  to  get  men  to  commit  themselves  in  this  way, 
but  rather  the  reverse.  Whoever  came  saying,  "Lord,  I 
will  follow  thee,"  met  a  gracious  reception.  Yet  the 


138  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

seeker  was  warned  that  he  must  take  up  his  cross,  and 
that  without  this  he  could  not  be  a  disciple.  He  was 
admonished  to  count  the  cost,  lest  he  should  begin  to  build 
and  not  be  able  to  finish.  In  some  cases,  as  that  of  the 
young  nobleman,  the  tests  proposed  were  so  severe  that 
the  man  went  away  sorrowful;  and  yet,  for  all  this,  the 
heart  of  the  Master  was  freely  open  to  all  who  chose  to 
follow  him. 

But  as  Jesus  would  take  none  without  full  warning  of 
the  stringency  of  his  exactions,  so  he  would  retain  none 
a  moment  beyond  the  time  when  their  hearts  were  fully 
in  it.  Free  they  were  to  come  as  God's  love  is  free  — 
free  also  to  go,  if  on  trial  they  found  the  doctrine  or  disci- 
pline too  hard  for  them.  Christ  gathered  his  spiritual 
army  on  the  principles  on  which  Moses  commanded  that  the 
army  of  Israel  should  be  gathered  for  battle,  when  procla- 
mation was  made  that  any  one  who  for  any  reason  was  not 
fully  in  good  heart  should  go  home,  "What  man  is  fearful 
or  faint-hearted,  let  him  go  and  return  to  his  house,  lest 
his  brethren's  heart  faint  as  well  as  his." 

There  is  a  very  striking  passage  in  the  sixth  chapter  of 
John's  Gospel,  where  Jesus,  in  the  most  stringent  and 
earnest  manner,  spoke  of  the  necessity  of  eating  his  flesh 
and  drinking  his  blood;  or,  in  other  words,  of  an  appro- 
priating and  identifying  union  of  soul  with  himself  as  con- 
stituting true  discipleship.  This  exposd  of  the  inner 
depths  of  real  spiritual  life  repelled  some,  as  it  is  writ- 
ten: — 

"  Many,  therefore,  of  his  disciples  said  :  This  is  a  hard  say- 
ing. Who  can  hear  it  ?  When  Jesus  knew  in  himself  that 
his  disciples  murmured,  he  said :  Doth  this  offend  you  ?  .  .  . 
But  there  are  some  of  you  that  believe  not.  For  Jesus  knew 
from  the  beginning  who  they  were  who  believed  not  and  who 
should  betray  him." 

From  that  time,  we  are  told,  many  of  his  disciples  went 


THE   CHURCH   OF   THE   MASTER  139 

back  and  walked  no  more  with  him.  They  left  the  church ; 
and  we  read  of  no  effort  to  discipline  or  retain  them.  The 
spiritual  life  of  the  church  expelled  them  by  the  law  of 
moral  repulsion;  they  felt  they  were  not  of  it,  and  they 
left,  and  were  suffered  to  leave.  The  only  comment  we 
read  of  as  being  made  by  the  Lord  was  this:  "Then  said 
Jesus  to  the  twelve :  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?  "  There  was 
the  door,  freely  open,  would  they,  too,  go?  Then  said 
Peter:  "Lord,  to  whom  should  we  go?  Thou  hast  the 
words  of  eternal  life,  and  we  believe  and  are  sure  that 
thou  art  the  Christ." 

We  can  see  here  what  was  the  sifting  process  by  which 
our  Lord  kept  his  little  church  pure.  It  was  the  union 
of  vivid  spirituality  with  perfect  freedom.  The  doors  of 
entrance  and  of  exit  were  freely  open;  and  those  who 
could  not  bear  the  intense  and  glowing  spiritual  life  were 
at  all  times  free  to  depart;  in  the  words  subsequently  used 
by  the  Apostle,  "they  judged  themselves  unworthy  of 
eternal  life."  Hence,  like  a  vigorous  human  body,  Christ's 
little  church  threw  out  from  itself  the  unvital  members, 
and  kept  itself  healthy  and  strong.  This  perfect  freedom 
to  depart  at  any  time  constituted  the  strength  of  the  little 
order.  Its  members  were  held  together,  not  by  a  dead 
covenant,  not  by  a  conventional  necessity,  not  by  past 
vows  uttered  in  high  excitement  —  but  by  a  living  choice 
of  the  soul,  renewed  from  moment  to  moment.  Even  the 
twelve  had  presented  to  -them  the  choice  to  go  away,  and 
took  anew  their  vow  of  constancy.  Hence  it  was  that 
even  the  astounding  horrors  of  the  sudden  fall  —  the  cruci- 
fixion of  the  Master  —  did  not  break  their  ranks.  There 
were  none  left  but  those  so  vitally  united  to  him,  so  "  one 
with  him"  that,  as  he  said,  .they  "lived  by  him."  He 
was  their  life;  they  followed  him  to  the  cross  and  to  the 
grave;  they  watched  the  sepulchre,  and  were  ready  to 
meet  him  in  the  resurrection  morning.  It  was  this  tried 


140    "  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

and  sifted  remnant  to  whom  he  appeared  when  the  doors 
were  closed,  after  the  resurrection,  on  whom  he  breathed 
peace  and -the  Holy  Ghost,  and  whose  spiritual  judgments 
and  decisions  he  promised  should  thereafter  be  ratified  in 
heaven. 

This  little  company  were,  as  nearly  as  human  beings  can 
be,  rooted  and  grounded  in  perfect  love.  The  lesson  of 
their  lives  had  been  love,  taught  them  by  precept  from  day 
to  day,  as  he  harmonized  their  contentions  and  repressed 
their  selfish  ambitions;  and  by  example,  as  he  persistently 
tolerated,  loved,  bore  with  a  treacherous  friend  in  his  own 
family. 

It  was  necessary  that  they  should  be  prepared  to  exer- 
cise power,  for  power  was  about  to  be  intrusted  to  them. 
It  was  necessary  to  prepare  them  to  be  the  governors  of 
the  future  Christian  Church.  But  he  was  unwearied  in 
efforts  to  make  them  understand  that  superiority  must 
only  be  a  superiority  in  doing  and  suffering  for  others. 
When  the  mother  of  James  and  John  asked  the  highest 
two  offices  for  her  two  sons,  he  looked  at  her  with  a 
pathetic  sadness.  Did  she  know  what  she  was  asking? 
Did  she  know  that  to  be  nearest  to  him  was  to  suffer  most  ? 
He  answered:  "You  know  not  what  you  ask.  Can  you 
drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink,  and  be  baptized  with 
my  baptism  ?  "  And  when  they  ignorantly  said,  "  We  are 
able,"  he  said  that  the  place  of  superiority  was  not  his  to 
give  by  any  personal  partiality,  but  was  reserved  for  the 
appointment  of  the  Father.  But  the  ambitious  spirit  now 
roused  had  spread  to  the  other  disciples.  It  is  said  that 
when  the  ten  heard  it  they  were  indignant  with  James 
and  John.  But  Jesus  called  them  to  him  and  said :  — 

"Ye  know  that  they  that  are  accounted  to  rule  over  the 
Gentiles  exercise  lordship  over  them,  and  their  great  ones 
exercise  authority  upon  them.  But  it  shall  not  be  so  among 
you  ;  but  whosoever  shall  be  great  among  you  let  him  be  your 


THE   CHURCH   OF  THE   MASTER  141 

minister,  and  whosoever  will  be  the  chiefest  let  him  be  servant 
of  all ;  for  even  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,  and  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 

One  of  the  very  last  acts  of  his  life,  and  one  of  the  most 
affecting  comments  on  these  words,  was  his  washing  his 
disciples'  feet  as  a  menial  servant  —  a  last  significant  act, 
which  might  almost  be  called  a  sacrament,  since  by  it  be, 
in  view  of  his  dying  hour,  put  this  last  impressive  seal  on 
his  teaching  of  humanity  and  brotherly  love. 

The  contest  which  should  be  the  greatest,  in  spite  of  all 
his  efforts,  all  his  teachings,  all  his  rebukes,  had  only 
smouldered,  not  been  extinguished,  and  was  ready  at  any 
moment  to  flame  out  again,  and  all  the  way  up  to  Jerusa- 
lem when  he  came  to  die  they  walked  behind  him  quarrel- 
ing over  this  old  point.  As  a  dying  mother  calling  her 
children  around  her  confirms  her  life-teaching  by  some  last 
act  of  love  never  to  be  forgotten,  so  this  Master  and  Friend 
before  the  last  supper  knelt  in  humility  at  the  feet  of  each 
disciple  and  washed  and  wiped  them,  and  then  interpreted 
the  act  as  a  sign  of  the  spirit  in  which  leadership  in  his 
church  should  be  sought:  "If  I,  your  Lord  and  Master, 
have  washed  your  feet,  ye  ought  also  to  wash  one  another's 
feet."  In  after  years  the  disciples  could  not  but  remem- 
ber that  Jesus  knelt  at  the  feet  of  Judas  and  washed  them 
as  meekly  as  those  of  all  the  rest;  and  then  they  saw  what 
he  meant  when  he  said,  "Love  your  enemies." 

From  first  to  last  the  teaching  of  Christ  was  one  long 
teaching  of  the  doctrine  and  discipline  of  perfect  love. 
When  the  multitudes  followed  him,  and  he  went  into  a 
mountain  to  give  his  summary  of  the  new  dispensation, 
we  hear  of  no  high,  mystical  doctrines.  We  hear  doc- 
trines against  censoriousness,  against  the  habit  of  judging 
others.  We  hear  men  cautioned  to  look  on  their  own 
faults,  not  on  those  of  others.  We  hear  love  like  the 
perfect  love  of  God  set  up  as  the  great  doctrine  of  the  new 


142  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

kingdom  —  love  which  no  injury,  no  unworthiness,  no 
selfishness  can  chill,  or  alter,  or  turn  aside;  which,  like 
God's  providence,  shines  on  the  evil  and  unthankful,  and 
sends  rain  on  the  just  and  the  unjust  —  this  mystery  of 
love,  deeper  than  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity,  was  what, 
from  first  to  last,  the  Master  sought  to  make  his  little 
church  comprehend. 

This  love  to  enemies,  this  forgiveness,  was  the  hardest 
of  hard  doctrines  to  them.  "Lord,  how  often  shall  my 
brother  transgress  and  I  forgive  him ?"  says  Peter;  "till 
seven  times?  "  "Nay,"  answers  Jesus,  "till  seventy  times 
seven."  "If  thy  brother  trespass  against  thee  seven  times 
a  day,  and  seven  times  turn  again  saying,  *  I  repent, '  thou 
shalt  forgive  him."  The  Master  taught  that  no  religious 
ordinance,  no  outward  service,  was  so  important  as  to  main- 
tain love  unbroken.  If  a  gift  were  brought  to  the  altar, 
and  there  it  were  discovered  that  a  brother  were  grieved 
or  offended,  the  gift  was  to  be  left  unoffered  till  a  recon- 
ciliation was  sought. 

It  is  not  merely  with  the  brother  who  has  given  us  cause 
of  offense,  but  the  brother  who,  however  unreasonably, 
deems  himself  hurt  by  us,  that  we  are  commanded  to  seek 
reconciliation  before  we  can  approach  a  Heavenly  Father. 

A  band  of  men  and  women  thus  trained  in  the  school  of 
Jesus,  careful  to  look  on  their  own  faults,  refraining  from 
judging  those  of  others,  unselfish  and  lowly,  seeking  only 
to  do  and  to  serve,  so  perfected  in  a  divine  love  that  the 
most  bitter  and  cruel  personal  injuries  could  not  move  to 
bitterness  or  revenge  —  such  a  church  is  in  a  fit  state  to 
administer  discipline.  It  has  the  Holy  Spirit  of  Jesus 
with  it ;  and  it  may  be  said,  without  superstitious  credulity, 
of  a  church  in  that  spirit  that  its  decisions  will  be  so  in 
accordance  with  the  will  of  God  that  "whosesoever  sins 
they  remit  are  remitted,  and  whosesoever  sins  they  retain 
are  retained." 


JUDAS  143 

But  where  have  we  such  a  church? 

The  church  of  the  Master  was  one  of  those  beautiful 
ideals,  fair  as  the  frost-crystals  or  the  dew-drops  of  morn- 
ing. It  required  a  present  Jesus  to  hold  it,  and  then 
with  what  constant  watchfulness  and  care  and  admonition 
on  his  part  was  it  kept!  We  can  only  study  at  his  mar- 
velous training,  and  gather  some  humble  inspiration.  It 
was  this  church  of  Jesus,  the  Master,  this  tried,  sifted, 
suffering  body  of  faithful  men  and  women  whose  prayers 
brought  down  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  day  of  Pentecost, 
and  inaugurated  the  Apostolic  Church. 


XXI 

JUDAS 

IT  is  one  of  the  mysteries  in  the  life  of  our  Lord  that 
he  was  led  by  the  immediate  direction  of  the  Father  to 
incorporate  into  his  little  family,  and  to  bring  into  the 
closest  personal  relations  with  himself,  an  unsympathetic 
and  adverse  element  that  must  have  been  a  source  of  con- 
tinual pain  to  him. 

It  was  after  a  whole  night  spent  in  prayer  for  the  divine 
direction  that  the  first  twelve  Apostles  were  chosen;  and 
Judas  also  was  one  of  them.  The  history  of  this  man  is 
a  wonder  and  a  warning.  That  there  could  possibly  be 
a  human  being  who  could  have  such  advantages,  could  rise 
to  such  a  height  of  spiritual  power  and  joy,  and  yet  in  the 
end  prove  to  be  utterly  without  any  true  spiritual  life 
seems  fearful. 

It  would  appear  that  Judas  had  at  first  a  sort  of  worldly 
enthusiasm  for  Christ  and  his  kingdom;  that  he  received 
the  divine  gift  of  miracle-working;  that  he  went  forth 
preaching  and  healing,  and  felt  all  the  exultation  and  joy 


144  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

which  the  sense  of  spiritual  power  and  influence  gives. 
Judas  was  among  those  who  returned  from  the  first  mis- 
sionary tour  in  triumph,  saying,  "Lord,  even  the  devils 
were  subject  unto  us!"  The  grave  answer  of  Jesus 
reminded  them  that  it  was  of  far  more  importance  to  be 
really  accepted  of  God  as  true  Christians  than  to  have  the 
most  brilliant  gifts  and  powers. 

In  our  Lord's  first  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  which  may 
be  considered  as  an  ordaining  charge  to  his  Apostles,  he 
had  said  to  them  that  in  the  great  final  day  of  Judgment 
there  would  be  many  who  would  say  unto  him,  "Lord, 
have  we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name,  and  in  thy  name  cast 
out  devils,  and  in  thy  name  done  many  wonderful  works  ? 
and  then  will  I  say  to  them,  I  never  knew  you;  depart 
from  me,  ye  that  work  iniquity."  Everywhere  in  the 
New  Testament  these  miraculous  powers  are  spoken  of  as 
something  of  far  less  value  than  the  true  Christian  spirit, 
and,  if  we  may  trust  the  word  of  our  Master,  many  had 
them  whom  he  will  never  acknowledge  for  his  own. 

But  the  warning  fell  on  the  ear  of  Judas  unheeded. 
Perhaps  he  did  not  himself  know  how  selfish  and  self- 
seeking  was  his  zeal  for  the  coming  kingdom.  Generally 
speaking,  the  first  person  deceived  by  a  man  who  plays  a 
false  part  is  himself.  Judas  appears  not  to  have  excited 
the  suspicions  of  the  little  company  of  brethren.  His 
shrewdness  and  tact  in  managing  financial  matters  led  them 
to  appoint  him  the  treasurer  of  the  common  family  purse. 
Without  doubt,  what  he  saw  of  the  enthusiastic  love  which 
Jesus  excited,  the  ease  with  which  he  could  make  people 
willing  to  lay  their  fortunes  at  his  feet,  opened  to  his  view 
dazzling  golden  visions.  He  saw  himself  treasurer  of  a 
kingdom  unequaled  in  splendor  and  riches,  when  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  should  be  subject  to  his  master. 
It  was  more  than  the  reign  of  Solomon,  when  gold  was  to 
be  as  the  stones  of  the  street. 


JUDAS  145 

If  we  notice  our  Lord's  teachings  delivered  in  the  hear- 
ing of  Judas,  we  must  be  struck  with  the  explicit  and 
forcible  manner  in  which  he  constantly  pointed  out  the 
danger  of  the  worldly  spirit  which  was  growing  upon  that 
disciple.  How  solemn  the  picture  of  the  rich  man,  ab- 
sorbed in  plans  and  calculations  how  to  bestow  his  great 
wealth  until  God  says  to  him,  "  Thou  fool !  this  night  shall 
thy  soul  be  required  of  thee  —  then  whose  shall  those 
things  be  that  thou  hast  provided?"  "So,"  he  adds,  "is 
every  one  that  layeth  up  riches,  and  is  not  rich  towards 
God. "  Again,  he  tells  them  that  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to 
go  through  a  needle's  eye  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God.  He  asks  them,  What  shall  it  profit 
a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ? 

We  hear  nothing  of  any  replies  that  Judas  makes  to 
these  teachings.  He  seldom  is  represented  dramatically. 
Peter,  James,  John,  and  Thomas,  all  present  themselves 
vividly  to  our  mind  by  the  things  that  they  say;  but 
Judas  is  silent.  The  Master,  wTho  knew  him  so  well,  did 
not  expose  him  to  the  others.  He  did  not  lessen  their 
brotherly  regard  or  interrupt  the  peace  of  his  little  family 
by  any  effort  at  expulsion.  As  his  Father  had  chosen 
this  member  to  be  in  intimate  nearness  to  himself,  Jesus 
accepted  him,  bore  with  him,  loved  him,  and  treated  him 
to  the  last  with  the  same  unvarying  sweetness  that  he 
showed  to  the  more  congenial  natures.  It  is  affecting  to 
remember  that  the  very  act  by  which  Christ  was  betrayed 
was  one  that  showed  that  all  the  external  habits  of  affec- 
tion remained  still  unbroken  between  him  and  the  traitor. 
The  kiss  of  Jesus  was  sincere;  he  loved  this  wretched 
man  as  heavenly  beings  love,  and  followed  him  with  love 
to  the  last. 

It  would  seem  that  towards  the  last  part  of  the  life  of 
Jesus  the  moral  antagonism  between  himself  and  Judas 
grew  more  pronounced  and  intense. 


146  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

As  the  spiritual  life  of  Jesus  waxed  brighter  and 
stronger,  so  much  the  more  vivid  became  the  contrast 
between  it  and  the  worldly  aims  of  the  traitor.  Judas 
saw  the  kind  of  worldly  prosperity  to  which  he  had  aspired 
receding.  He  saw  that  Jesus,  instead  of  using  his  splen- 
did miraculous  powers  to  draw  towards  him  the  chiefs  of 
his  nation,  was  becoming  every  day  more  in  antagonism 
with  them.  Instead  of  meeting  the  popular  desire  to  make 
him  a  king  he  had  drawn  back  from  it,  and  by  that  very 
act  lost  many  followers.  His  extreme  spiritual  teachings 
had  disgusted  many  of  his  disciples  and  led  them  to  go 
back  and  walk  no  more  with  him.  And  now  the  talk  of 
Jesus  was  more  and  more  of  persecutions  and  sufferings 
and  death,  as  lying  just  before  him.  To  a  worldly  eye 
all  this  looked  like  a  fanatical  throwing  away  of  the  very 
brightest  opportunity  for  fame  and  fortune  and  dominion 
that  ever  was  given  to  a  leader.  Judas  became  sullenly 
discontented,  not  yet  ready  openly  to  throw  off  all  hopes 
of  what  might  be  got  by  adhering  to  his  Master,  but  yet  in 
a  critical  and  fault-finding  spirit  surveying  all  his  actions. 

It  is  an  awful  thought  that  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to 
share  the  daily  bread  of  Jesus,  to  be  in  his  family,  treated 
as  a  beloved  child,  to  hear  all  his  beautiful  words,  to  listen 
to  his  prayers  day  after  day,  and  yet,  instead  of  melting, 
to  grow  colder  and  harder  —  to  grow  more  earthly  as  his 
Master  grew  more  heavenly,  and  to  find  this  want  of  sym- 
pathy slowly  hardening  into  a  sullen  enmity  which  only 
waited  its  hour  to  declare  itself  openly.  Christ  said  to 
the  unbelieving  Jews,  "Ye  have  both  seen  and  hated  both 
Me  and  my  Father."  Judas  was  fast  preparing  to  join 
that  party. 

According  to  the  narrative  of  St.  Matthew,  it  was  after 
this  rebuke  in  the  matter  of  Mary  that  Judas  went  into 
negotiations  with  those  who  were  plotting  the  destruction 
of  Jesus.  He  was  a  disappointed  man.  He  had  joined 


JUDAS  147 

a  party  which  he  confidently  expected  to  lead  to  triumph, 
success,  and  wealth.  Instead  of  this,  Jesus  had  lost  every 
opportunity,  lost  the  favorable  hour  of  popularity,  and 
concentrated  on  himself  the  hatred  of  the  most  powerful 
men  of  the  nation,  and  now  was  talking  only  of  defeat 
and  rejection. 

The  presence  of  Judas  with  the  household  was  now  that 
of  a  spy,  watching  his  occasion,  but  making  no  outward  de- 
monstration. He  was  in  the  little  family  circle  that  gathered 
in  the  upper  room  to  eat  the  last  passover  supper.  His 
Master  bent  at  his  feet  and  washed  them,  as  he  did  those 
of  the  faithful  ones,  in  that  sacramental  action  when  he 
showed  them  what  he  meant  by  true  love.  It  was  directly 
after  this  last  act  of  affection  that  Jesus  openly  declared 
his  knowledge  of  the  meditated  treachery,  for  he  said:  "I 
speak  not  of  you  all,  I  know  whom  I  have  chosen;  but 
the  Scripture  must  be  fulfilled  which  saith,  He  that  eateth 
bread  with  me  hath  lifted  up  his  heel  against  me."  Then 
with  a  deep  sigh  he  adds  in  plain  words,  "Verily,  verily, 
I  say  unto  you,  one  of  you  shall  betray  me." 

It  is  a  most  lovely  comment  on  the  goodness  of  heart 
of  these  simple  men  that  in  so  solemn  a  moment  no  one 
of  them  thought  of  criminating  the  other.  Each  one  said 
tremblingly,  "  Lord,  is  it  I  ?  " 

John,  leaning  down  on  his  Master's  breast,  inquired 
privately  who  it  was;  and  Jesus  gave  him  a  private  sign 
that  it  should  be  he  to  whom  he  gave  a  sop  when  he  had 
dipped  it.  He  dipped  the  sop,  and  gave  it  to  Judas. 
Then  Judas,  still  keeping  up  the  show  of  innocence,  said, 
like  the  rest,  "Master,  is  it  I?"  Jesus  answered,  "Thou 
hast  said  it." 

It  is  said  that  "  Satan  entered  into  him  "  at  this  moment. 
All  the  smouldering  elements  of  meanness,  disgust,  dislike 
of  Jesus,  his  teaching,  his  spirit,  and  his  mission  were 
quickened  by  the  presence  of  that  invisible  enemy  who 


148  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE   MASTER 

comes  to  the  heart  of  man  only  when  he  is  called  by  the 
congenial  indulgence  of  wicked  passions. 

Judas  rose  hastily,  and  our  Lord  added,  "That  thou 
doest,  do  quickly."  He  flung  himself  out  and  was  gone. 

The  miserable  sum  for  which  he  sold  his  Master,  though 
inconsiderable  in  itself,  was  probably  offered  as  first  wages 
in  a  new  service.  His  new  masters  were  the  heads  of 
Israel:  all  avenues  of  patronage  and  power  were  in  their 
hands,  and  the  fortune  that  he  could  not  make  on  the  side 
of  Jesus  he  might  hope  to  gather  on  that  of  his  enemies. 
He  may  have  compounded  with  his  conscience  by  believ- 
ing that  the  miraculous  power  of  our  Lord  was  such  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  a  fatal  termination.  In  fact,  that 
his  being  taken  might  force  him  to  declare  himself  and 
bring  on  the  triumphant  moment  of  victory.  He  might 
possibly  have  said  to  himself  that  he  was  at  any  rate  acting 
the  part  of  a  mediator  in  bringing  matters  to  a  crisis,  and 
perhaps  forcing  a  favorable  result.  For,  when  he  found 
that  Jesus  was  indeed  a  victim,  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
remorse  and  despair.  He  threw  the  wretched  money  at 
the  feet  of  his  tempters  and  departed  and  hanged  himself, 
and  went,  as  we  are  told,  "to  his  own  place." 

He  went  to  the  place  for  which  he  had  fitted  himself, 
who,  living  in  the  very  bosom  of  Jesus,  had  grown  more 
and  more  unlike  him  every  day.  He  left  Christ  —  driven 
by  no  force  but  his  own  wicked  will.  To  the  last  the 
love  of  God  pursued  him:  his  Master  knelt  and  washed 
the  very  feet  that  were  so  soon  to  hasten  to  betray  him. 
It  was  with  a  sorrowful  spirit,  a  troubled  heart,  that  Jesus 
said,  "Woe  unto  that  man  by  whom  the  Son  of  man  is 
betrayed:  good  were  it  for  that  man  if  he  never  had  been 
born." 

Without  attempting  to  solve  the  mysteries  of  this  deep- 
est of  all  tragedies,  we  may  yet  see  some  of  the  uses  and 
purposes  of  it  in  regard  to  ourselves. 


JUDAS  149 

Our  Lord  was  appointed  to  suffer  in  all  respects  as  his 
brethren;  and  the  suffering  of  bearing  with  antagonistic 
and  uncongenial  natures  is  one  that  the  providence  of  God 
often  imposes  on  us.  There  are  often  bound  to  us,  in 
the  closest  intimacy  of  social  or  family  ties,  natures  hard 
and  ungenial,  with  whom  sympathy  is  impossible,  and 
whose  daily  presence  necessitates  a  constant  conflict  with 
an  adverse  influence.  There  are,  too,  enemies  —  open  or 
secret  —  whose  enmity  we  may  feel  yet  cannot  define. 
Our  Lord,  going  before  us  in  this  hard  way,  showed  us 
how  we  should  walk. 

It  will  be  appropriate  to  the  solemn  self-examination  of 
the  period  of  Lent  to  ask  ourselves,  Is  there  any  false 
friend  or  covert  enemy  whom  we  must  learn  to  tolerate,  to 
forbear  with,  to  pity  and  forgive  1  Can  we  in  silent  offices 
of  love  wash  their  feet  as  our  Master  washed  the  feet  of 
Judas?  And  if  we  have  no  real  enemies,  are  there  any 
bound  to  us  in  the  relations  of  life  whose  habits  and  ways 
are  annoying  and  distasteful  to  us?  Can  we  bear  with 
them  in  love  ?  Can  we  avoid  harsh  judgments,  and  harsh 
speech,  and  the  making  known  to  others  our  annoyance  ? 
Could  we  through  storms  of  obloquy  and  evil  report  keep 
calmly  on  in  duty,  unruffled  in  love,  and  commending  our- 
selves to  the  judgment  of  God?  The  examination  will 
probably  teach  us  to  feel  the  infinite  distance  between  us 
and  our  divine  Ideal,  and  change  censoriousness  of  others 
into  prayer  for  ourselves. 


150  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE  MASTER 

XXII 

GOING    UP    TO    JERUSALEM 

Palm  Sunday 

NOTHING  in  ancient  or  modern  tragedy  is  so  sublime 
and  touching  as  the  simple  account  given  by  the  Evangelists 
of  the  last  week  of  our  Lord's  earthly  life. 

The  church  has  since  his  ascension  so  devoutly  looked 
upon  him  as  God  that  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  the 
pathos  and  the  power  which  come  from  a  consideration  of 
his  humanity.  The  Apostle  tells  us  that,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest,  he  was  made 
in  all  respects  like  unto  his  brethren.  He  was  a  Jew. 
His  national  and  patriotic  feeling  was  intense.  To  him 
the  sacred  nation,  the  temple  service,  with  all  its  hymns 
and  prayers  and  ancient  poetic  recollections,  were  more 
dear  than  to  any  other  man  of  his  nation.  The  nation 
was  his  own,  his  peculiar,  chosen  people;  he  was  their 
head  and  flower,  for  whom  the  whole  gorgeous  ritual  had 
been  appointed,  for  whom  the  nation  had  been  for  cen- 
turies waiting.  Apart  from  his  general  tenderness  and  love 
for  humanity  was  this  special  love  of  country  and  country- 
men. Then  there  was  the  love  of  his  very  own  —  the 
little  church  of  tried,  true,  tested  friends  who  had  devoted 
themselves  to  him ;  and,  still  within  that,  his  family  circle, 
for  whom  his  love  was  strong  as  a  father's,  tender  and 
thoughtful  as  a  mother's.  And  yet  Jesus  went  through 
life  bearing  in  his  bosom  the  bitter  thought  that  his  nation 
would  reject  him  and  instigate  one  of  his  own  friends  to 
betray  him,  and  that  all  seeming  success  and  glory  was  to 
end  in  a  cruel  and  shameful  death.  He  foresaw  how  every 
heart  that  loved  him  would  be  overwhelmed  and  crushed 
with  a  misery  beyond  all  human  precedent. 


GOING  UP  TO   JERUSALEM  151 

It  is  affecting  to  read  in  the  Evangelists  how  often  and 
how  earnestly  Jesus  tried  to  make  his  disciples  realize 
what  was  coming.  "Let  this  saying  sink  down  into  your 
ears,"  he  would  say:  "the  Son  of  man  shall  be  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  men ; "  and  then  would  recount,  item  by 
item,  the  overthrow,  the  agonies,  the  insults,  the  torture, 
that  were  to  be  the  end  of  his  loving  and  gentle  mission. 
At  various  times  and  in  various  forms  he  took  them  aside 
and  repeated  this  prophecy.  And  it  is  said  that  they 
"understood  not  his  word;  "  that  "they  were  astonished;'7 
that  they  "feared  to  ask  him; "  that  they  "questioned  one 
with  another  what  this  should  mean."  It  seems  probable 
that,  warmed  with  the  flush  of  present  and  increasing 
prosperity  and  popularity,  witnessing  his  victorious  mira- 
cles, they  had  thrown  this  dark  prophecy  by,  as  something 
inexplicable  and  never  literally  to  be  accomplished.  What 
it  could  mean  they  knew  not,  but  that  it  could  have  a 
literal  fulfillment  they  seem  none  of  them  to  have  even 
dreamed.  Perhaps  they  were  like  many  of  us,  in  our 
religion,  in  the  habit  of  looking  only  on  the  bright,  hope- 
ful, and  easily  comprehensible  side  of  things,  and  letting 
all  that  is  dark  and  mysterious  slide  from  the  mind. 

Up  to  the  very  week  before  his  crucifixion  the  power 
and  popularity  of  Jesus  seemed  constantly  increasing. 
His  miracles  were  more  open,  more  impressive,  more  effec- 
tive. The  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  dead  had  set  the 
final  crown  on  the  glorious  work.  It  would  appear  that 
Lazarus  was  a  member  of  a  well-known,  influential  family, 
moving  in  the  higher  circles  of  Jerusalem.  It  was  a 
miracle  wrought  in  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  knowledge 
and  influence,  and  it  raised  the  fame  of  the  new  prophet 
to  the  summit  of  glory.  It  is  an  affecting  comment  on  the 
worth  of  popular  favor  that  the  very  flood-tide  of  the 
fame  and  glory  of  Jesus  was  just  five  days  before  he  was 
crucified.  On  Monday  —  the  day  now  celebrated  in  the 


152  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

Christian  Church  as  Palm  Sunday  —  he  entered  Jerusalem 
in  triumph,  with  palms  waving,  and  garlands  thrown  at 
his  feet,  and  the  multitudes  going  before  and  after,  shout- 
ing Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David;  and  on  Friday  of  the 
same  week  the  whole  multitude  shouted,  "Away  with 
him !  Crucify  him !  Eelease  unto  us  Barabbas !  His 
blood  be  upon  us  and  upon  our  children ! "  and  he  was  led 
through  those  same  streets  to  Calvary.  On  these  six  days 
before  the  death  of  Jesus  the  historians  have  expended  a 
wealth  of  detail,  so  that  the  record  of  what  is  said  and 
done  is  more  than  that  of  all  the  other  portions  of  that 
short  life. 

There  are  many  touches  of  singular  tenderness  conveyed 
in  very  brief  words.  Speaking  of  his  final  journey  from 
Galilee  to  Judsea,  says  one:  "When  the  time  came  that 
he  should  be  received  up  he  set  his  face  steadfastly  to  go 
to  Jerusalem."  Another  narrates  that  when  he  was  going 
up  to  Jerusalem  he  walked  before  his  disciples,  and  as 
they  followed  him  they  were  afraid.  Evidently  he  was 
wrapped  in  an  electric  cloud  of  emotion;  he  was  swept 
along  by  a  mighty  influence  —  tides  of  feeling  deeper  than 
they  could  comprehend  were  rolling  in  his  soul,  and  there 
was  that  atmosphere  of  silence  and  mystery  about  him  by 
which  the  inward  power  of  great  souls  casts  an  outward 
sphere  of  awe  about  them.  Still,  as  they  walked  behind, 
they  had  their  political  dreams  of  a  coming  reign  of  power 
and  splendor,  when  the  Juda?an  nation  should  rule  the 
world,  and  they,  as  nearest  to  the  Master,  should  admin- 
ister the  government  of  the  nation  —  for  it  is  .said,  by  the 
way  they  "disputed  who  should  be  the  greatest." 

He  hears  their  talk,  as  a  dying  mother,  who  knows  that 
a  few  hours  will  leave  her  children  orphans,  listens  to  the 
contentions  of  the  nursery.  He  turns  to  them  and  makes 
a  last  effort  to  enlighten  them  —  to  let  them  know  that 
not  earthly  glory  and  a  kingdom  are  before  them,  but 


GOING  UP  TO   JERUSALEM  153 

cruelty,  rejection,  shame,  and  death.  He  recounts  the 
future,  circumstantially,  and  with  what  deep  energy  and 
solemn  pathos  of  voice  and  manner  may  be  imagined. 
They  make  no  answer,  but  shrink  back,  look  one  on 
another,  and  are  afraid  to  ask  more.  It  would  seem, 
however,  that  there  was  one  in  the  band  on  whom  these 
words  made  an  impression.  Judas  evidently  thought 
that,  if  this  was  to  be  the  end  of  all,  he  had  been  taken 
in  and  deceived:  a  sudden  feeling  of  irritation  arises 
against  One  who  having  such  evident  and  splendid  miracu- 
lous power  is  about  to  give  up  in  this  way  and  lose  his 
opportunity  and  suffer  himself  to  be  defeated.  Judas  is 
all  ready  now  to  make  the  best  terms  for  himself  with  the 
winning  party.  The  others  follow  in  fear  and  trembling. 
The  strife  who  shall  be  greatest  subsides  into  a  sort  of 
anxious  questioning. 

They  arrive  at  a  friendly  house  where  they  are  to  spend 
the  Sabbath,  the  last  Sabbath  of  his  earthly  life.  There 
was  a  feast  made  for  him,  and  we  see  him  surrounded  by 
grateful  friends.  By  the  fact  that  Martha  waited  on  the 
guests  and  that  Lazarus  sat  at  the  table  it  would  appear 
that  this  feast  was  in  the  house  of  a  relative  of  that  family. 
It  is  said  to  have  occurred  in  the  house  of  "Simon  the 
Leper"  —  perhaps  the  leper  to  whom  Jesus  said,  "I  will 
—  be  thou  clean." 

Here  Mary,  with  the  abandon  which  marks  her  earnest 
and  poetic  nature,  breaks  a  costly  vase  of  balm  and  sheds 
the  perfume  on  the  head  of  her  Lord.  It  was  an  action  in 
which  she  offered  up  her  whole  self  —  her  heart  and  her 
life  —  to  be  spent  for  him,  like  that  fleeting  perfume. 
Judas  expostulates,  "  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ? " 
There  is  an  answering  flash  from  Jesus,  like  lightning 
from  a  summer  cloud.  The  value  that  our  Lord  sets  upon 
love  is  nowhere  more  energetically  expressed.  This  trem- 
bling, sensitive  heart  has  offered  itself  up  wholly  to  him, 


154  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

and  he  accepts  and  defends  it.  There  is  a  touch  of  human 
pathos  in  the  words,  "She  is  anointing  me  for  my  burial." 
Her  gift  had  all  the  sacredness  in  his  eyes  of  a  death-bed 
act  of  tenderness,  and  he  declares,  "Wheresoever  through 
the  world  this  gospel  shall  be  preached,  there  also  shall 
what  this  woman  hath  done  be  told  for  a  memorial  of  her. " 

Judas  slinks  back,  sullen  and  silent.  The  gulf  between 
him  and  his  Master  grows  hourly  more  palpable  —  as  the 
nature  that  cannot  love  and  the  nature  to  whom  love  is 
all  come  in  close  collision.  Judas  and  Christ  cannot  blend 
any  more  than  oil  and  water,  and  the  nearer  approach  only 
makes  the  conflict  of  nature  more  evident. 

On  Monday  morning,  the  day  that  we  now  celebrate  as 
Palm  Sunday,  Jesus  enters  Jerusalem.  We  are  told  that 
the  great  city,  now  full  of  Jews  come  up  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  was  moved  about  him.  We  have  in  the  Book 
of  Acts  an  enumeration  of  the  varieties  in  the  throng  that 
filled  Jerusalem  at  this  time :  "  Parthians,  Medes,  Elamites, 
dwellers  in  Mesopotamia  and  in  Judsea  and  Cappadocia,  in 
Pontus  and  Asia,  Phrygia  and  Pamphylia,  in  Egypt  and 
in  the  parts  of  Libya  about  Gyrene,  and  strangers  of  Rome, 
Jews  and  Proselytes,  Cretes  and  Arabians."  When  all 
these  strangers  heard  the  shouting,  it  is  said  the  "whole 
city  was  moved,  saying,  Who  is  this  ?  And  the  multitude 
said,  This  is  Jesus,  the  Prophet  of  Nazareth  in  Galilee." 

And  what  was  He  thinking  of,  as  he  came  thus  for  the 
last  time  to  the  chosen  city  ?  We  are  told  "  And  when 
he  drew  near  and  beheld  the  city,  he  wept  over  it,  saying, 
If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
that  belong  to  thy  peace !  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyes."  Then  follows  the  prophetic  vision  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  —  scenes  of  horror  and  despair  for  which 
his  gentle  spirit  bled  inwardly. 

One  feature  of  the  picture  is  touching:  the  children 
in  the  temple  crying,  "  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David ! " 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE  155 

The  love  of  Jesus  for  children  is  something  marked  and 
touching.  When  he  rested  from  his  labors  at  eventide,  it 
was  often,  we  are  told,  with  a  little  child  in  his  arms  — 
children  were  his  favorite  image  for  the  heavenly  life,  and 
he  had  bid  the  mothers  to  bring  them  to  him  as  emblems 
of  the  better  world.  The  children  were  enthusiastic  for 
him,  they  broke  forth  into  rapture  at  his  coming  as  birds 
in  the  sunshine,  loud  and  noisily  as  children  will,  to  the 
great  discomfiture  of  priests  and  Scribes.  "Master!  bid 
them  hush,"  they  said.  He  turned,  indignant  —  "If 
these  should  hold  their  peace  the  very  stones  would  cry 
out."  These  evidences  of  love  from  dear  little  children 
were  the  last  flower  thrown  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  on  his 
path  to  death.  From  that  day  the  way  to  the  cross  was 
darker  every  hour. 

XXIII 

THE    BARREN    FIG-TREE 

Monday  in  Passion  Week 

DURING  the  last  week  of  the  life  of  Jesus  we  see  him 
under  the  most  awful  pressure  of  emotion;  the  crisis  of 
a  great  tragedy,  which  has  been  slowly  gathering  and 
growing  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  is  now  drawing 
on.  The  nation  that  he  had  chosen  —  that  he  had  borne 
and  carried  through  all  the  days  of  old  —  was  now  to  con- 
summate her  ruin  in  his  rejection.  All  his  words  and 
actions  during  the  last  week  of  his  life  were  under  the 
shadow  of  that  cloud  of  doom  which  overhung  the  city  of 
Jerusalem,  the  temple,  and  the  people  whom  he  had  loved, 
so  earnestly  and  so  long,  in  vain. 

When  going  up  to  Jerusalem  he  walked  before  his  disci- 
ples, silent  and  absorbed;  and  they  dared  scarcely  speak 
to  him.  Amid  the  triumphant  shouts  of  the  people  that 


156  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

welcomed  him  to  the  city  he  paused  on  the  verge  of  Olivet 
and  wept  over  it.  He  saw  the  siege,  the  famine,  the  terror 
of  women  and  helpless  children,  the  misery  and  despair, 
the  unutterable  agonies  of  the  sacking  of  Jerusalem,  which 
has  been  a  world's  wonder;  and  he  broke  forth  in  lamenta- 
tion. "Oh,  that  thou  hadst  known  —  even  thou  in  this 
thy  day  —  the  things  that  belong  to  thy  peace !  But  now 
they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes." 

All  his  discourses  of  this  last  week  are  shaded  with  the 
sad  coloring  and  prophetic  vision  of  coming  doom,  of  a 
crime  hastening  to  fulfillment  that  should  bring  a  long- 
delayed  weight  of  wrath  and  vengeance. 

His  parables  now  turn  on  this  theme.  One  day  they 
tell  of  a  husbandman  intrusting  a  vineyard  to  the  care  of 
faithless  servants;  he  sends  messengers  to  overlook  them; 
they  beat  one  and  stone  another,  till  finally  he  sends  his 
only  and  beloved  son,  and  then  they  say,  "Let  us  kill 
him ; "  and  they  catch  him  and  cast  him  out  of  the  vine- 
yard and  slay  him.  "What,"  he  asks,  "shall  the  Lord 
of  the  vineyard  do  to  these  husbandmen  ? "  Again,  he 
speaks  of  a  feast  to  which  all  are  generously  invited,  and 
all  neglect  or  reject  the  invitation,  and  not  only  reject  but 
insult  and  despise  and  ill-treat  the  messengers  who  bear 
the  invitation;  and  tells  how  the  insulted  King  sends  the 
invitation  to  others,  and  decrees,  "None  of  these  men 
shall  taste  of  my  supper."  He  tells  of  a  wedding  feast, 
and  of  foolish  virgins  who  slumber  with  unfilled  lamps 
till  the  door  of  welcome  is  shut.  He  tells  of  a  king,  who, 
having  intrusted  talents  to  his  servants,  comes  again  to 
reckon,  and  takes  away  the  talent  of  the  unfaithful  one 
and  casts  him  to  outer  darkness. 

All  these  themes  speak  of  the  approaching  rejection  of 
the  nation  on  whom  God  has  heaped  so  many  favors  for 
many  years.  The  thought  of  their  doom  seems  to  press 
down  the  heart  of  the  Redeemer. 


THE   BARKEN   FIG-TREE  157 

The  twenty-third  chapter  of  Matthew  contains  Christ's 
last  sermon  in  the  temple  —  his  final  words  of  leave-taking 
of  his  people;  and  a  most  dreadful  passage  it  is.  It  is 
awful,  it  is  pathetic,  to  compare  those  fearful  words  with 
his  first  benignant  announcement  at  Nazareth.  Nothing 
in  human  language  can  be  conceived  more  terrible  than 
these  last  denunciations  of  the  rejected  Lord  and  Lover  of 
the  chosen  race.  He  exposes  with  scathing  severity  the 
hypocrisy,  the  greed,  the  cruelty  of  the  leaders  of  the 
nation;  he  denounces  them  as  the  true  descendants  of 
those  who  of  old  killed  God's  prophets  and  stoned  his 
messengers,  and  ends  by  rising  into  the  very  majesty  of 
the  Godhead  in  declaring  their  final  doom :  — 

"  Fill  ye  up  the  measure  of  your  fathers.  Ye  serpents  !  Ye 
generation  of  vipers!  How  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of 
hell  ?  Wherefore,  behold,  I  send  unto  you  prophets  and  wise 
men  and  scribes ;  and  some  of  them  ye  shall  kill  and  crucify, 
and  some  of  them  ye  shall  scourge  in  your  synagogues  and 
persecute  from  city  to  city.  That  upon  you  might  come  all 
the  righteous  blood  shed  upon  earth,  from  the  blood  of  righteous 
Abel  to  the  blood  of  Zacharias,1  the  son  of  Barachias,  whom  ye 
slew  between  the  temple  and  the  altar.  Verily  I  say  unto  you 
all  these  shall  come  upon  this  generation ! 

"  O  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  !  thou  that  killest  the  prophets 
and  stonest  those  that  are  sent  unto  thee  —  how  often  would  I 
have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen  doth  gather 
her  brood  under  her  wings  —  and  ye  would  not.  Behold,  your 
house  is  left  unto  you  desolate,  for  I  say  that  ye  shall  see  me 
no  more  henceforth  till  ye  say,  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord." 

i  See  2  Chronicles  xxiv.  20,  21. 

"  And  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  Zechariah,  the  son  of  Jehoida 
the  priest,  who  stood  among  the  people,  and  said,  Why  transgress  ye  the 
commandments  of  the  Lord,  that  ye  cannot  prosper  ?  Because  ye  have 
forsaken  the  Lord  he  also  hath  forsaken  you.  And  they  conspired'  against 
him  and  stoned  him  with  stones  in  the  court  of  the  house  of  the  Lord." 

These  two  instances,  of  Abel  and  Zacharias,  cited  by  our  Lord  from  the 
very  first  and  very  last  of  the  sacred  historic  books,  seemed  to  cover  the 
whole  ground  of  their  history.  The  variation  as  to  the  name  of  the  pro- 
phet's father  has  many  theories  to  account  for  it,  any  one  of  which  is 
satisfactory. 


158  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

This  was  Christ's  last  farewell  —  his  valedictory  to  those 
whom  he  had  loved  and  labored  for,  and  who  would  not 
come  to  him  that  he  might  give  them  life. 

To  all  these  awful  words  was  added  the  language  of  an 
awful  symbol.  In  one  of  his  parables  our  Lord  had 
spoken  of  the  Jewish  nation  under  the  figure  of  a  tree 
which,  though  carefully  tended  year  by  year,  bore  no  fruit. 
At  last  the  word  goes  forth,  "  Cut  it  down ! "  But  the 
keeper  of  the  vineyard  intercedes  and  prays  that  it  may 
have  a  longer  space  of  cultured  care,  and  so  be  brought  to 
fruit-bearing.  This  last  week  of  our  Lord's  life  he  sets 
forth  the  solemn  close  of  that  parable  by  one  of  those 
symbolic  acts  common  among  the  old  prophets  and  well 
understood  by  the  Jews. 

Approaching  a  fair  and  promising  tree  on  his  way  into 
the  city,  he  seeks  fruit  thereon,  but  finds  it  barren.  There 
is  a  pause,  and  then  a  voice  of  deep  sadness  says,  "No 
fruit  grow  on  thee  henceforth  and  forever ! "  and  immedi- 
ately the  fig-tree  withered  away. 

It  was  an  outward  symbol  of  that  doomed  city  whose 
day  of  mercy  was  past.  The  awfulness  of  these  last  words 
and  of  this  last  significant  sign  is  increased  by  the  tender- 
ness of  Him  who  gave  them  forth.  It  is  the  Fountain  of 
Pity,  the  All-Loving  One,  that  uttered  the  doom  —  a 
doom  made  certain  and  inevitable  not  by  God's  will  but 
by  man's  perversity. 

The  lesson  that  we  have  to  learn  is  the  reality  and 
awfulness  of  sin,  the  reality  of  that  persistence  in  wicked- 
ness that  can  make  even  the  love  of  Jesus  vain  for  our 
salvation.  For  what  hope,  what  help,  what  salvation  can 
there  be  for  those  who  cannot  be  reached  by  His  love  ?  If 
they  have  seen  and  hated  both  him  and  his  Father  —  what 
remains  ? 


CAIAPHAS  159 

XXIV 

CAIAPHAS 

Tuesday  in  Passion  Week 

THE  thought  may  arise  to  many  minds,  if  Jesus  was  so 
lovely,  so  attractive,  and  so  beloved,  how  could  it  have 
been  possible  that  he  should  be  put  to  so  cruel  a  death  in 
the  very  midst  of  a  people  whom  he  loved  and  for  whom 
he  labored? 

The  sacred  record  shows  us  why.  It  was  this  very 
attractiveness,  this  very  power  over  men's  hearts,  that  was 
the  cause  and  reason  of  the  conspiracy  against  Jesus.  We 
have  a  brief  and  very  dramatic  account  of  the  meeting  of 
the  Sanhedrim  in  which  the  death  of  Christ  was  finally 
resolved  upon,  and  we  find  that  very  popularity  urged  as 
a  reason  why  he  cannot  be  permitted  to  live.  In  John 
xi.  47,  we  are  told  that  after  the  raising  of  Lazarus  the 
chief  priests  and  Pharisees  gathered  a  council  and  said, 
"  What  do  we  1  this  man  doeth  many  miracles.  If  we  let 
him  thus  alone  all  men  will  believe  on  him,  and  the 
Romans  will  come  and  take  away  our  place  and  nation." 

There  is  the  case  stated  plainly,  and  we  see  that  these 
men  talked  then  just  as  men  in  our  days  talk.  Do  they 
ever  resolve  on  an  act  of  oppression  or  cruelty,  calling  it 
by  its  right  name1?  Never.  It  is  a  "sacrifice"  to  some 
virtue;  and  the  virtue  in  this  case  was  patriotism. 

Here  is  the  Jewish  nation,  a  proud  and  once  powerful 
people,  crushed  and  writhing  under  the  heel  of  the  con- 
quering Romans.  They  are  burning  with  hatred  of  their 
oppressors  and  with  a  desire  of  revenge,  longing  for  the 
Messiah  that  shall  lead  them  to  conquest  and  make  their 
nation  the  head  of  the  world. 

And  now,  here  comes  this  Jesus  and  professes  to  be  the 


160  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTEK 

long-promised  leader ;  and  what  does  he  teach  ?  Love  and 
forgiveness  of  enemies;  patient  endurance  of  oppression 
and  wrong ;  and  supreme  devotion  to  the  pure  inner  life 
of  the  soul.  If  Roman  tax-gatherers  distrain  upon  their 
property  and  force  them  to  carry  it  from  place  to  place, 
they  are  to  meet  it  only  by  free  good  will,  that  is,  willing- 
ness to  go  two  miles  when  one  is  asked.  If  the  extor- 
tionate officer  seizes  their  coat,  they  are  to  show  only  a 
kindliness  that  is  willing  to  give  even  more  than  that. 

They  are  to  love  their  bitterest  enemies,  pity  and  pray 
for  them,  and  continue  in  unbroken  kindness,  even  as  God's 
sunshine  falls  in  unmoved  benignity  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust! 

It  must  have  inflamed  these  haughty,  ambitious  leaders 
to  fury  to  see  all  their  brilliant  visions  of  war  and  conquest 
and  national  independence  melting  away  in  a  mist  of  what 
seemed  to  them  the  mere  impossible  sentimentalism  of 
love.  And  yet  this  illusion  gains  ground  daily ;  Christ  is 
received  in  triumph  at  Jerusalem,  and  the  rulers  say  to 
each  other,  "Perceive  ye  how  we  prevail  nothing?  behold 
the  whole  world  is  gone  out  after  him." 

Now,  in  the  Jewish  Sanhedrim  Christ  had  friends  and 
followers.  We  are  told  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  who 
would  not  consent  to  the  deeds  of  the  council.  We  are 
told  of  Nicodemus,  who  before  now  had  spoken  boldly  in 
the  council,  demanding  justice  and  a  fair  hearing  for 
Jesus.  We  may  well  believe  that  so  extreme  a  course  as 
was  now  proposed  met  at  first  strong  opposition.  There 
seems  to  have  been  some  warm  discussion.  We  may 
imagine  what  it  was  :  that  Jesus  was  a  just  and  noble 
man,  a  prophet,  a  man  all  of  whose  deeds  and  words  had 
been  pure  and  beneficent,  was  doubtless  earnestly  urged. 
The  advocates,  it  is  true,  were  not  men  who  had  left  all 
to  follow  him,  or  enrolled  themselves  openly  as  his  disci- 
ples, but  yet  they  could  not  consent  to  so  monstrous  an 


CAIAPHAS  161 

injustice  as  this.  That  the  discussion  produced  strong 
feeling  is  evident  from  the  excited  manner  in  which 
Caiaphas  sums  up :  "Ye  know  nothing  at  all,  nor  consider 
that  it  is  better  that  one  man  should  die  than  that  the 
whole  nation  should  perish."  That  was  the  case  as  he 
viewed  it,  and  he  talked  precisely  as  men  in  our  days  have 
often  talked  when  consenting  to  an  injustice  or  oppression: 
Say  what  you  will  of  this  Jesus;  I  will  not  dispute  you. 
Admit,  if  you  please,  his  virtues  and  good  works;  still,  he 
is  a  wrong-headed  man,  that  will  be  the  ruin  of  our  nation. 
Either  he  must  perish  or  the  nation  be  destroyed. 

And  so,  on  the  altar  of  patriotism  this  murder  was  laid 
as  a  sacrifice.  And  it  was  this  same  burning,  impatient 
national  spirit  of  independence  that  slew  Christ  which 
afterwards  provoked  the  Roman  government  beyond  endur- 
ance, and  brought  upon  Jerusalem  wrath  to  the  uttermost. 

The  very  children  and  grandchildren  of  Caiaphas  died 
in  untold  miseries  in  that  day  of  wrath  and  doom.  The 
decision  to  reject  Christ  was  the  decision  which  destroyed 
Jerusalem  with  a  destruction  more  awful  than  any  other 
recorded  in  history. 

We  are  apt  to  consider  the  actors  in  this  great  tragedy 
as  sinners  above  all  others.  But  every  day  and  every  hour 
in  our  times  just  such  deeds  are  being  reenacted. 

There  were  all  sorts  of  sinners  in  that  tragedy :  Caiaphas, 
who  sacrificed  one  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  noble  and  good 
man  to  political  ambition;  Pilate,  who  consented  to  an 
acknowledged  wrong  from  dread  of  personal  inconvenience; 
Judas,  who  made  the  best  of  his  time  in  selling  out  a 
falling  cause  to  the  newcomers;  Peter,  the  impetuous 
friend  suddenly  frightened  into  denial;  the  twelve,  for- 
saking and  fleeing  in  a  moment  of  weakness;  the  multi- 
tude of  careless  spectators,  those  tide-waiters  who  turn  as 
the  flood  turns,  who  shouted  for  Jesus  yesterday  because 
others  were  shouting,  and  turn  against  him  to-day  because 


162  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  MASTER 

he  is  unpopular.  All  these  were  there.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  were  the  faithful  company  of  true-hearted 
women  that  went  with  Jesus  weeping  on  his  way  to  the 
cross;  that  beloved  disciple  and  the  Mother  that  stood  by 
him  to  the  last;  all  these,  both  friends  and  foes,  represent 
classes  of  people  who  still  live  and  still  act  their  part  in 
this  our  day. 

"  For,  when  under  fierce  oppression, 
Goodness  suffers  like  transgression, 

Christ  again  is  crucified; 
But  if  love  be  there  true-hearted, 
By  no  pain  or  terror  parted, 

Mary  stands  the  cross  beside! " 


XXV 

THE    JOY    OF    CHRIST 

Wednesday  in  Passion  Week 

THE  last  chapters  of  St.  John  —  in  particular  from  the 
thirteenth  to  the  seventeenth  —  are  worthy,  more  than 
anything  else  in  the  sacred  writings,  of  the  designation 
which  has  been  given  them,  The  Heart  of  Jesus.  They 
are  the  language  of  the  most  intimate  love,  to  the  most 
intimate  friends,  in  view  of  the  greatest  and  most  incon- 
ceivable of  human  sorrows.  For,  though  the  disciples  — 
poor,  humble,  simple  men  —  were  dazed,  confused,  and 
misty  up  to  the  very  moment  when  they  were  entering 
upon  the  greatest  sorrow  of  their  life,  the  Master  who  was 
leading  them  saw  it  all  with  perfect  clearness.  He  saw 
perfectly  not  only  the  unspeakable  humiliation  and  anguish 
that  were  before  himself,  but  the  disappointment,  the 
terror,  the  dismay,  the  utter  darkness  and  despair  that 
were  just  before  these  humble,  simple  friends  who  had 
invested  all  their  love  and  hope  in  him. 


THE  JOY  OF  CHRIST  163 

When  we  think  of  this  it  will  seem  all  the  more 
strange,  the  more  unworldly  and  divine  to  find  that  in 
these  very  chapters  our  Lord  speaks  more  often,  and  with 
more  emphasis,  of  JOY  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  New 
Testament.  In  the  fifteenth  he  says,  "These  things  have 
I  spoken  unto  you  that  my  joy  might  remain  in  you,  and 
that  your  joy  might  be  full."  And  again,  in  his  prayer 
for  them,  he  says,  "And  now  come  I  to  thee;  and  these 
things  I  speak  in  the  world  that  they  might  have  my  joy 
fulfilled  in  themselves."  He  speaks  of  his  joy  as  a  trea- 
sure he  longed  to  impart  —  as  something  which  overflowed 
his  own  soul,  and  sought  to  equalize  itself  by  flowing  into 
the  souls  of  his  friends.  He  was  not  only  full  of  joy,  but 
he  had  fullness  of  joy  to  give  away. 

This  joy  of  Christ  in  the  approach  of  extremest  earthly 
anguish  and  sorrow  is  one  of  the  beautiful  mysteries  of  our 
faith.  It  is  a  holy  night-flower,  opening  only  in  dark- 
ness, and  shedding  in  the  very  shadow  of  death  light  and 
perfume;  or  like  the  solemn  splendor  of  the  stars,  to  be 
seen  only  in  the  deepest  darkness. 

In  the  representations  made  of  our  Lord  as  a  man  of 
sorrows  we  are  too  apt  to  forget  the  solemn  emphasis 
with  which  he  asserts  this  fullness  of  joy.  But  let  us 
look  at  his  position  on  the  mere  human  side.  At  the  hour 
when  he  thus  spoke  he  knew  that,  so  far  as  the  salvation 
of  his  nation  was  concerned,  his  life-work  had  been  a  fail- 
ure. His  own  people  had  rejected  him  and  had  bargained 
with  a  member  of  his  own  family  to  betray  him.  He 
knew  the  exact  details  of  the  scourging,  the  scoffing,  the 
taunts,  the  torture,  the  crucifixion;  and  to  a  sensitive  soul 
the  hour  of  approach  to  a  great  untried  agony  is  often  the 
hour  of  bitterest  trial.  It  is  when  we  foresee  a  great 
trouble  in  the  dimness  of  to-morrow  that  our  undisciplined 
hearts  grow  faint  and  fail  us.  But  he  who  had  long  fore- 
seen —  who  had  counted  in  advance  —  every  humiliation, 


164  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

every  sorrow,  and  every  pain,  spoke  at  the  same  time  of 
his  joy  as  an  overflowing  fullness.  He  spoke  of  his  peace 
as  something  which  he  had  a  divine  power  to  give  away. 
The  world  saw  that  night  a  new  sight  —  a  sufferer  who 
had  touched  the  extreme  of  all  earthly  loss  and  sorrow, 
who  yet  stood,  like  a  God,  offering  to  give  Peace  and  Joy 
—  even  fullness  of  joy.  For  our  Lord  intensifies  the  idea. 
He  wants  his  children  not  to  have  joy  merely,  but  to  be 
full  of  joy.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  words  to  "have 
my  joy  fulfilled  in  them." 

We  shall  see  in  the  affecting  history  of  the  next  few 
hours  of  the  life  of  Jesus  that  this  heavenly  joy  was  capa- 
ble of  a  temporary  obscuration.  He  was  aware  that  a  trial 
was  coming  from  a  direct  collision  with  the  Evil  Spirit. 
"The  Prince  of  this  world  cometh,  but  hath  nothing  in 
me.'7 

Yet  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the  mysterious  agonies  of 
Gethsemane,  that  wrung  the  blood-drops  from  his  heart, 
were  in  part  due  to  that  conflict  with  cruel  and  malignant 
spirits.  It  is  the  greatest  possible  help  to  our  poor  sor- 
rowful nature  that  these  struggles,  these  strong  cryings  and 
bitter  tears  of  our  Lord,  have  been  recorded,  because  it 
helps  us  to  feel  that  he  was  not  peaceful  because  he  was 
passionless  —  that  his  joy  and  peace  did  not  come  from  the 
serenity  of  a  nature  incapable  of  sorrow  and  struggles  like 
ours.  There  are  passages  in  the  experience  of  such  saints 
as  Madame  Guyon  that  seem  like  the  unnatural  exaltations 
of  souls  exceptionally  indifferent  to  circumstances;  nothing 
makes  any  difference  to  them;  one  thing  is  just  as  good 
as  another.  But  in  the  experience  of  Jesus  we  see  our 
own  most  shrinking  human  repellencies.  We  see  that 
there  were  sufferings  that  he  dreaded  with  his  whole  soul; 
sorrows  which  he  felt  to  be  beyond  even  his  power  of 
endurance;  and  so  when  he  said,  "Not  my  will,  but  Thy 
will,"  he  said  it  with  full  vision  of  what  he  was  accepting; 


GETHSEMANE  165 

and  in  that  unshaken,  that  immovable  oneness  of  will  with 
the  Father  lay  the  secret  of  his  joy  and  victory. 

It  is  a  great  and  solemn  thing  for  us  to  think  of  this 
joy  of  Christ  in  sorrow.  It  is  something  that  we  can 
know  only  in  and  by  sorrow.  But  sorrows  are  so  many 
in  this  world  of  ours!  Griefs,  sickness,  disappointment, 
want,  death,  so  beset  our  footsteps  that  it  is  worth  every- 
thing to  us  to  think  of  that  joy  of  Christ  that  is  brightest 
as  the  hour  grows  darkest.  It  is  a  gift.  It  is  not  in  us. 
We  cannot  get  it  by  any  human  reasonings  or  the  mere 
exercise  of  human  will,  but  we  can  get  it  as  a  free  gift 
from  Jesus  Christ. 

If  in  the  hour  of  his  deepest  humiliation  and  suffering 
he  had  joy  and  peace  to  give  away,  how  much  more  now, 
when  he  is  exalted  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  to  give  gifts 
unto  men!  Poor  sorrowful,  suffering,  struggling  souls, 
Christ  longs  to  comfort  you.  "I  will  give  to  him  that  is 
athirst  the  water  of  life  freely."  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


XXVI 

GETHSEMANE 

Thursday  in  Passion  Week 

THERE  are  times  in  life  when  human  beings  are  called 
to  sorrows  that  seem  so  hopeless,  so  cruel,  that  they  take 
from  the  spirit  all  power  of  endurance.  There  are  agonies 
that  overwhelm,  that  crush,  — their  only  language  seems 
to  be  a  groan  of  prostrate  anguish.  There  are  distresses 
against  which  the  heart  cries  out,  "It  is  too  much.  I 
cannot,  cannot  bear  it.  God  have  mercy  on  me !  " 

It  was  for  people  who  suffer  thus,  for  those  who  are 
capable  of  such  depths  and  who  are  called  to  go  through 


166  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

them,  that  the  great  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  pro- 
fession passed  through  that  baptism  of  agony  in  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane.  The  Apostle  says,  "It  became  him  for 
•whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bring- 
ing many  sons  and  daughters  unto  glory,  to  make  the 
Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect  through  suffering." 
And  it  was  at  this  hour  and  time  that  he  was  to  pass 
through  such  depths  that  no  child  of  his  could  ever  go 
deeper.  Alone,  and  without  the  possibility  of  human 
sympathy,  he  was  to  test  those  uttermost  distresses  possi- 
ble to  the  most  exceptional  natures.  Jesus  suffered  all 
that  he  could  endure  and  live.  The  record  is  given  with 
great  particularity  by  three  Evangelists,  and  is  full  of  mys- 
terious suggestion.  Up  to  this  period  all  the  discourses 
of  our  Lord,  in  distinct  view  of  his  final  sufferings,  had 
been  full  of  calmness  and  courage.  He  had  consoled  his 
little  flock,  and  bid  them  not  be  troubled,  speaking  cheer- 
fully of  a  joy  that  should  repay  the  brief  anguish  of  sepa- 
ration. He  not  only  was  wholly  at  peace  in  his  own  soul, 
but  felt  that  he  had  peace  in  abundance  to  give  away. 
"Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you;  not 
as  the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your  heart 
be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid.'7 

Yet  he  went  forth  from  speaking  these  very  words,  and 
this  is  the  account  of  the  scene  that  followed,  collated 
from  the  three  Evangelists :  — 

"  Then  cometh  Jesus  with  them  unto  the  place  that  is  called 
Gethsemane,  and  said  to  his  disciples,  Sit  ye  here  while  I  go 
and  pray  yonder.  And  he  took  with  him  Peter  and  James  and 
John,  and  began  to  be  sore  amazed,  and  to  be  very  heavy  (in 
extreme  anguish).  And  he  said  unto  them,  My  soul  is  exceed- 
ing sorrowful,  even  unto  death ;  tarry  ye  here  and  watch  with 
me,  and  pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation.  And  he  went 
forward  a  little,  and  fell  on  his  face  and  prayed  that,  if  it  were 
possible,  the  hour  might  pass  from  him,  saying,  My  Father,  if 
it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me ;  nevertheless,  not  as  I 


GETHSEMANE  167 

•will,  but  as  them  wilt.  And  he  cometh  unto  his  disciples  and 
findeth  them  asleep,  and  saith  unto  Peter,  What !  could  ye  not 
watch  with  me  one  hour  ?  Watch  and  pray  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation ;  the  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is 
weak.  He  went  away  again  the  second  time,  and  prayed,  and 
said,  Abba,  Father,  all  things  are  possible  unto  thee  ;  take  away 
this  cup  from  me ;  nevertheless,  not  what  I  will,  but  what  thou 
wilt.  O  my  Father,  if  this  cup  may  not  pass  away  from  me 
except  I  drink  it,  thy  will  be  done.  And  he  came  and  found 
them  asleep  again ;  for  their  eyes  were  heavy,  neither  wist  they 
what  to  answer  him.  And  he  left  them  and  went  away  the  third 
time,  and  prayed,  saying  the  same  words.  And,  being  in  an 
agony,  he  prayed  more  earnestly,  and  his  sweat  was  as  it  were 
great  drops  of  blood,  falling  down  to  the  ground,  and  there 
appeared  to  him  an  angel  from  heaven  strengthening  him. 

"  And  when  he  rose  up  from  prayer  and  was  come  to  his 
disciples,  he  findeth  them  sleeping  for  sorrow,  and  -saith  unto 
them,  Sleep  on  now  —  rest." 

.  There  seems  here  evidence  that  the  anguish,  whatever 
it  was,  had  passed,  and  that  Jesus  had  returned  to  his  habit- 
ual peace.  He  looks  with  pity  on  the  poor  tired  followers 
whose  sympathy  had  failed  him  just  when  he  most  needed 
it,  and  says,  "Poor  souls,  let  them  sleep  for  a  little  and 
rest." 

After  an  interval  he  rouses  them.  "  It  is  enough  —  the 
hour  is  come;  the  Son  of  man  is  betrayed  into  the  hand  of 
sinners.  Kise  up ;  let  us  go :  behold,  he  is  at  hand  that 
doth  betray  me." 

The  supposition  that  it  was  the  final  agony  of  the  cross 
which  Jesus  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  is  inconsistent 
with  his  whole  life  and  character.  He  had  kept  that  end 
in  view  from  the  beginning  of  his  life.  He  said,  in  view 
of  it,  "I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I 
straitened  till  it  be  accomplished !  "  He  rebuked  Peter  in 
the  sharpest  terms  for  suggesting  that  he  should  avoid  those 
predicted  sufferings.  Going  up  to  Jerusalem  to  die,  he 
walked  before  the  rest,  as  if  impelled  by  a  sacred  ardor  to 


168  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

fulfill  his  mission.  Furthermore,  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  we  are  taught  thus:  the  writer  says,  speaking  of 
the  Saviour,  "Who  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  offered  up 
prayers  with  strong  crying  and  tears  to  him  that  was  able 
to  save  him  from  death,  and  was  heard  in  that  he  feared." 
Whatever  relief  it  was  that  our  Lord  supplicated  with  such 
earnestness,  it  was  given;  and  he  went  forth  from  the 
dreadful  anguish  in  renewed  and  perfect  peace. 

We  may  not  measure  the  depths  of  that  anguish  or  its 
causes.  Our  Lord  gives  some  intimation  of  one  feature  in 
it  by  saying,  as  he  prepared  to  go  forth  to  it,  "  The  Prince 
of  this  World  cometh,  and  hath  nothing  in  me ; "  and  in 
warning  his  disciples,  "Pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temp- 
tation. "  The  expression  employed  by  St.  Mark  to  describe 
the  anguish  is  indicative  of  a  sudden  rush  —  of  an  amaze- 
ment, as  if  a  new  possibility  of  suffering,  overwhelming 
and  terrible,  had  been  disclosed  to  him,  such  a  sorrow  as 
it  seemed  must  destroy  life  —  "exceeding  sorrowful,  even 
unto  death." 

Let  these  words  remain  in  all  their  depths,  in  all  their 
mystery,  as  standing  for  that  infinite  possibility  of  pain 
which  the  one  divine  Man  was  to  taste  for  every  man. 
There  have  been  facts  in  human  experience  analogous. 
We  are  told  that  the  night  before  his  execution,  Jerome 
of  Prague,  in  his  lonely  prison,  condemned  and  held 
accursed  by  the  proud  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  Christian 
Sanhedrim  of  his  times,  fainted  and  groaned  and  prayed 
as  Jesus  in  Gethsemane.  Martin  Luther  has  left  on  record 
a  wonderful  prayer,  written  the  night  before  the  Diet  of 
Worms,  when  he,  a  poor,  simple  monk,  was  called  before 
the  great  Diet  of  the  Empire  to  answer  for  his  faith. 
Such  strong  crying  and  tears  —  such  throbbing  words  — 
that  seem  literally  like  drops  of  blood  falling  down  to  the 
ground,  attest  that  Luther  was  passing  through  Gethse- 
mane. Alone,  with  all  the  visible  power  of  the  Church 


GETHSEMANE  169 

and  the  world  against  him,  his  position  was  like  that  of 
Jesus.  A  crisis  was  coming  when  he  was  to  witness  for 
truth,  and  he  felt  that  only  God  was  for  him,  and  he 
appeals  to  him:  "Hast  thou  not  chosen  me  to  do  this 
work?  I  ask  thee,  0  God,  O  thou  my  God,  where  art 
thou?  Art  thou  dead?  No,  thou  canst  not  die;  thou 
art  only  hiding  thyself." 

In  many  private  histories  there  are  Gethsemanes.  There 
are  visitations  of  sudden,  overpowering,  ghastly  troubles, 
—  troubles  that  transcend  all  ordinary  human  sympathy, 
such  as  the  helpless  human  soul  has  to  wrestle  with  alone. 
And  it  was  because  in  this  blind  struggle  of  life  such 
crushing  experiences  are  to  be  meted  out  to  the  children 
of  men  that  Infinite  Love  provided  us  with  a  divine 
Friend  who  had  been  through  the  deepest  of  them  all,  and 
come  out  victorious. 

In  the  sudden  wrenches  which  come  by  the  entrance  of 
death  into  our  family  circles,  there  is  often  an  inexplicable 
depth  of  misery  that  words  cannot  tell.  No  outer  words 
can  tell  what  a  trial  is  to  the  soul.  Only  Jesus,  who,  as 
the  Head  of  the  human  race,  united  in  himself  every  capa- 
bility of  human  suffering,  and  proved  them  all,  in  order 
that  he  might  help  us,  only  he  has  an  arm  strong  enough 
and  a  voice  tender  enough  to  reach  us.  The  stupor  of  the 
disciples  in  the  agony  of  Jesus  is  a  sort  of  parable  or 
symbol  of  the  inevitable  loneliness  of  the  deepest  kind  of 
sorrow.  There  are  friends,  loving,  honest,  true,  but  they 
cannot  watch  with  us  through  such  hours.  It  is  like  the 
hour  of  death  —  nobody  can  go  with  us.  But  he  who 
knows  what  it  is  so  to  suffer;  he  who  has  felt  the  horror, 
the  amazement,  the  heart-sick  dread  —  who  has  fallen  on 
his  face  overcome,  and  prayed  with  cryings  and  tears  and 
the  bloody  sweat  of  agony  —  he  can  understand  us  and  can 
help  us.  He  can  send  an  angel  from  heaven  to  comfort 
us  when  every  human  comforter  is  "sleeping  for  sorrow." 


170  FOOTSTEPS  OF   THE   MASTER 

It  was  Gethsemane  which  gave  Jesus  the  power  to  bring 
many  sons  and  daughters  unto  glory. 

And  it  may  comfort  us  under  such  trials  to  hope  that  as 
he  thus  gained  an  experience  and  a  tenderness  which  made 
him  mighty  to  comfort  and  to  save,  so  we,  in  our  humbler 
measure,  may  become  comforters  to  others.  When  the 
experience  is  long  past,  when  the  wounds  of  the  heart  are 
healed,  then  we  may  find  it  good  to  have  drank  of  Christ's 
cup,  and  gone  down  in  that  baptism  with  him.  We  may 
find  ourselves  with  hearts  tenderer  to  feel,  and  stronger  to 
sustain  others;  even  as  the  Apostle  says,  he  "comforteth 
us  in  all  our  tribulations,  that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort 
them  that  are  in  any  trouble,  by  the  comfort  wherewith 
we  ourselves  are  comforted  of  God." 


XXVII 

THE    LAST    WORDS    OF    JESUS 

Good  Friday 

A  PECULIAR  sacredness  always  attaches  to  the  words  of 
the  dying.  In  that  lonely  pass  between  the  here  and  the 
hereafter  the  meanest  soul  becomes  in  a  manner  a  seer, 
and  a  mysterious  interest  invests  it.  But  the  last  utter- 
ances of  great  and  noble  spirits,  of  minds  of  vast  feeling 
and  depth,  are  of  still  deeper  significance.  The  last  utter- 
ances of  great  men  would  form  a  pathetic  collection  and  a 
food  for  deep  ponderings.  It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  the 
traditions  of  the  Christian  Church  have  attached  a  special 
value  to  the  last  words  of  Jesus  on  the  cross. 

The  last  words  of  Socrates,  reported  by  Plato,  have  had 
an  undying  interest.  These  words  were  spoken  in  the 
bosom  of  sympathizing  friends  and  in  the  enjoyment  of 
physical  quiet  and  composure.  Death  was  at  hand;  but 


THE  LAST   WORDS   OF  JESUS  171 

it  was  a  death  painless  and  easy,  and  undisturbing  to  the 
flow  of  thought  or  emotion. 

The  death  of  Jesus,  on  the  contrary,  was  death  with 
every  aggravation  and  horror  which  could  make  it  fearful. 
There  was  everything  to  torture  the  senses  and  to  ohscure 
the  soul.  It  was  a  whirl  of  vulgar  obloquy  and  abuse, 
confusing  to  the  spirit,  and  following  upon  protracted 
exhaustion  from  sleeplessness  and  suffering  of  various  kinds 
for  long  hours. 

In  the  case  of  most  human  beings  we  might  wish  to 
hide  our  eyes  from  the  sight  of  such  an  agony;  we  might 
refuse  to  listen  to  what  must  be  the  falterings  and  the 
weaknesses  of  a  noble  spirit  overwhelmed  and  borne  down 
beyond  the  power  of  human  endurance.  But  no  such 
danger  attends  the  listening  to  the  last  words  on  Calvary. 
They  have  been  collected  into  a  rosary  embodying  the 
highest  Christian  experience  possible  to  humanity,  the 
most  signal  victory  of  love  over  pain  and  of  good  over  evil 
that  the  world's  history  presents. 

During  Passion  Week  in  Rome  no  services  are  more 
impressive  than  those  of  the  seven  "last  words,"  with  the 
hymns,  prayers,  and  exhortations  accompanying  them.  To 
us  the  mere  quotation  of  them,  unattended  by  sermon  or 
hymn  or  prayer,  is  a  litany  of  awful  power.  Have  we 
ever  pondered  these  as  they  were  spoken  in  their  order  in 
the  words  of  the  simple  Gospel  narrative  1 

"And  when  they  came  to  the  place  that  is  called  Cal- 
vary, there  they  crucified  him  and  the  malefactors,  the  one 
on  his  right  hand  and  the  other  on  his  left.  Then  said 
Jesus,  Father,  forgive  them;  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  This  is  the  first  word.  Against  physical  violence 
and  pain  there  is  in  us  all  a  reaction  of  the  animal  nature 
which  expresses  itself  often  in  the  form  of  irritation. 
Thus,  in  strong,  undisciplined  natures,  the  first  shock  of 
physical  torture  brings  out  a  curse,  and  it  is  only  after  an 


172  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

interval  that  reason  and  conscience  gain  the  ascendency 
and  make  the  needed  allowance.  In  these  strange  words 
of  Jesus  we  feel  that  there  is  the  sharp  shock  of  a  new 
sense  of  pain,  but  it  wrings  from  him  only  prayer.  This 
divine  sweetness  of  love  was  un vanquished ;  the  habit  of 
tenderness  and  consideration  for  the  faults  of  others  fur- 
nished an  instant  plea.  The  poor  brutal  Roman  soldiers 
—  they  know  not  what  they  do!  The  foolish  multitude 
who  three  days  before  shouted  "Hosanna,"  and  now  shout 
"  Crucify  "  —  they  know  not  what  they  do !  How  strange 
to  the  Roman  soldiers  must  those  words  have  sounded,  if 
they  understood  them !  "  What  manner  of  man  is  this  ?  " 
It  is  not  surprising  that  tradition  numbers  these  poor  sol- 
diers among  the  earliest  converts  to  Jesus. 
The  second  utterance  was  on  this  wise :  — 

"  And  the  people  that  stood  beholding,  and  the  rulers  also 
with  them,  derided  him,  saying,  He  saved  others ;  let  him  save 
himself,  if  he  be  Christ,  the  chosen  of  God.  And  the  soldiers 
also  mocked  him,  coming  to  him  and  offering  him  vinegar ;  and 
one  of  the  malefactors  railed  on  him,  saying,  If  thou  be  the  Son 
of  God,  save  thyself  and  us.  But  the  other  answering,  rebuked 
him,  saying,  Dost  thou  not  fear  God,  seeing  that  thou  art  in  the 
same  condemnation  ?  —  and  we,  indeed,  justly,  for  we  receive 
the  reward  of  our  deeds;  but  this  man  hath  done  nothing 
amiss.  And  he  said  to  Jesus,  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou 
comest  into  thy  kingdom.  And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Verily, 
I  say  unto  thee,  to-day  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

Still  unvanquished  by  pain,  he  is  even  with  his  last 
breath  pronouncing  words  of  grace  and  consolation  for  the 
guilty  and  repentant!  He  is  mighty  to  save  even  in  his 
humiliation ! 

The  third  utterance  is  recorded  by  St.  John  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"  Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of  Jesus  his  mother,  and  his 
mother's  sister,  Mary  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  and  Mary  Magda- 
lene. When  Jesus,  therefore,  saw  his  mother  standing,  and 


THE   LAST   WORDS   OF   JESUS  173 

the  disciple  whom  he  loved,   he  said  to   his  mother,  Woman, 
behold  thy  son,  and  to  the  disciple,  Son,  behold  thy  mother." 

Thus  far,  every  utterance  of  Jesus  has  been  one  of 
thoughtful  consideration  for  others,  of  prayer  for  his  ene- 
mies, of  grace  and  pardon  to  the  poor  wretch  by  his  side, 
and  of  tenderness  to  his  mother  and  disciple.  But  in  tast- 
ing death  for  every  man  our  Lord  was  to  pass  through  a 
deeper  experience;  he  was  to  know  the  sufferings  of  the 
darkened  brain,  which,  clogged  and  impeded  by  the  ob- 
structed circulation,  no  longer  afforded  a  clear  medium  for 
divine  communion.  He  was  to  suffer  the  eclipse  which 
the  animal  nature  in  its  dying  state  can  interpose  between 
the  soul  and  God.  Three  hours  we  are  told  had  passed, 
when  there  was  darkness  over  all  the  land,  like  that  that 
was  slowly  gathering  over  the  head  of  the  suffering  Lord. 
"And  at  the  ninth  hour  Jesus  cried  with  a  loud  voice, 
saying,  Eloi,  Eloi,  lama  sabacthani,  which  is,  being  in- 
terpreted, My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  1 "  Those  words,  from  the  Psalrn  of  David,  come  now 
as  the  familiar  language  expressive  of  that  dreadful  expe- 
rience to  which  the  whole  world  looks  as  its  ransom :  — 

"  After  that,  Jesus  said,  I  thirst.  And  one  ran  and  filled  a 
sponge  full  of  vinegar  and  put  it  on  a  reed  and  gave  him  to 
drink.  And  when  he  had  received  the  vinegar,  he  said,  It  is 
finished,  and  he  bowed  his  head." 

What  we  read  of  his  last  utterance  is  that  "he  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  and  gave  up  the  ghost."  This  last 
loud  utterance  was  in  the  words,  "  Father,  into  thy  hands 
I  commend  my  spirit." 

It  is  the  interpretation  that  the  church  has  given  to 
these  last  words  that  they  betokened  a  sudden  flame  of 
joyful  perception,  such  as  sometimes  lights  up  the  brain 
at  the  dying  moment,  after  it  has  been  darkened  by  the 
paralysis  of  death.  As  he  said,  "It  is  finished,"  light, 


174  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

and  joy,  and  hope,  flushed  his  soul,  and  with  this  loud 
cry  of  victory  and  joy,  it  departed  like  a  ray  of  heavenly 
light  to  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 

Such  were  the  seven  "last  utterances"  of  Jesus  —  and 
when  can  we  hope  to  attain  to  what  they  teach  ?  When 
shall  we  be  so  grounded  in  Love  that  no  tumult  or  jar  of 
outward  forces,  no  insults,  no  physical  weariness,  exhaus- 
tion, or  shock  of  physical  pain,  shall  have  power  to  absorb 
us  in  selfishness,  or  make  us  forgetful  of  others  ?  When 
shall  pity  and  prayer  be  the  only  spontaneous  movement 
of  our  hearts  when  most  hurt  and  injured  —  pierced  in  the 
tenderest  nerve?  When  shall  though tfulness  for  others, 
and  divine  pity  for  degraded  natures,  be  the  immovable 
habit  of  our  souls?  How  little  of  self  and  its  sufferings 
in  these  last  words ;  how  much  of  pity  and  love  —  the  pity 
and  love  of  a  God ! 

Could  we  but  learn  life's  lessons  by  them,  then  will 
come  at  last  to  us  the  final  hour,  when,  our  trial  being 
completed,  we  shall  say  "It  is  finished,"  and  pass  like  him 
to  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 


XXVIII 

THE    DARKEST    HOUR      * 

Good  Friday  Evening 

WHAT  is  the  darkest  hour  to  us  when  our  friends  die  ? 
Not  the  dying  hour;  for  then  love  has  some  last  act,  some 
last  word  to  receive,  some  comfort  to  give,  some  service  to 
render,  that  diverts  from  the  bitterness  of  pain.  Not  even 
when  the  eyes  are  closed  forever,  and  the  face  is  fixed  in 
marble  stillness;  for  still  we  gather  at  the  side  of  the  cold 
clay  and  feel  as  if  there  were  something  left  us  of  our  love. 
But  when  we  have  carried  our  dear  ones  to  the  grave,  and 


THE   DARKEST   HOUR  175 

seen  the  doors  of  the  sepulchre  shut  between  them  and  us, 
and  come  back  to  the  house  where  they  are  no  more  — 
where  they  never  more  may  be  —  then  is  indeed  the  dark- 
est hour. 

There  is  a  very  touching  picture  by  Delaroche  entitled 
"The  Keturn  from  the  Cross,"  in  which  the  mother  of 
Jesus,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  beloved  John,  is  seen  just 
entering  a  lowly  dwelling.  A  few  faithful  friends,  men 
and  women,  are  with  them;  they  have  seen  him  die  — 
seen  him  laid  in  the  sepulchre  and  a  great  stone  rolled 
against  the  door;  and  now  they  are  come  to  their  desolate 
home  to  think  it  all  over,  and  to  weep. 

Do  we  ask,  Why  did  they  not  remember  the  words  of 
Jesus,  that  he  should  rise  again?  Ah!  because  they  had 
just  such  hearts  as  we  have,  and  their  faith  was  overpow- 
ered by  sight  just  as  ours  is. 

They  may  have  thought  they  believed  that  they  should 
see  their  Lord  risen  from  the  dead;  but  at  the  sight  of 
the  death  agonies,  and  the  lifeless  form,  and  the  dark,  cold 
stone  of  the  sepulchre,  all  this  poor  faith  died  in  darkness. 
It  was  like  carrying  a  taper  out  into  a  tempest.  And  we, 
when  we  lay  our  dear  ones  in  the  grave,  say  in  solemn 
words  that  we  do  it  "in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  blessed 
and  glorious  resurrection,"  when  what  is  sown  in  weakness 
shall  be  raised  in  power,  what  is  sown  in  dishonor  shall 
be  raised  in  glory.  We  say  it,  and  we  think  we  believe 
it;  but  does  it  really  then  cheer  us?  Does  it  dry  our 
tears  ?  Does  it  make  the  return  to  our  desolated  home  any 
less  dreadful? 

Still  we  remember  the  death-bed,  the  pains,  the  dying 
eyes,  the  weakness,  the  sinking  —  we  are  overwhelmed  by 
sorrow,  and  our  souls  ache  as  with  a  wound.  Our  hearts 
throb  and  yearn  towards  the  form  we  can  no  longer  see 
or  embrace,  as  if  the  loved  one  were  a  portion  of  our  own 
selves  that  had  been  violently  torn  away,  leaving  us  faint- 


176  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

ing  and  bleeding  to  death.  All  this  —  more  than  all  this 
—  was  in  the  sorrow  of  the  home  of  Mary  and  John  that 
darkest  of  all  nights. 

He  they  mourned  was  not  merely  friend,  but  Lord  and 
Leader,  the  Hope  of  Israel;  the  hope  of  the  world;  and 
God  had  let  him  suffer  and  die  thus ! 

It  was  true  that  Jesus  had  made  special  efforts  to  pro- 
vide against  the  sinking  of  this  hour.  He  warned  his 
friends  of  it  beforehand.  He  admitted  four  of  his  chosen 
disciples  upon  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  to  look  into 
the  heavenly  world  and  see  him  in  glory  and  hear  him 
speaking  with  Moses  and  Elijah  of  his  coming  death.  All 
this  was  given  that  their  faith  might  not  fail.  Then,  just 
before  his  death,  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  he  declared  him- 
self the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  and  showed  them  in 
the  restored  form  of  a  well-known  friend  what  he  meant 
by  rising  from  the  dead  —  for  it  is  said,  "They  questioned 
among  themselves  what  the  rising  from  the  dead  should 
mean. " 

But  all  appeared  to  be  gone  now.  Love  still  kept 
watch.  Spices  were  prepared  to  embalm  the  precious  form 
with  no  hope,  apparently,  of  its  resurrection.  It  had 
faded  out  from  their  minds  as  it  seems  to  fade  out  of  the 
minds  of  us  Christians  when  we  bewail  our  dead  and  speak 
of  them  as  "lost."  Their  Jesus  was  to  them  dead  and 
gone;  and  why  this  thing  was  permitted  was  a  dark,  inso- 
luble mystery.  "We  trusted  that  it  had  been  he  that 
should  have  redeemed  Israel,"  said  the  two  disciples,  sadly 
walking  on  the  way  to  Emmaus.  "  We  trusted !  "  All  in 
the  past  tense.  Not  a  word  of  any  hope  or  faith  in  the 
resurrection !  And  yet  their  Lord  and  Master  was  even  at 
that  moment  walking  with  them  and  comforting  their 
hearts. 

Surely,  in  this  respect,  we  modern  Christians  too  often 
tread  in  the  footsteps  of  the  saints  and  suffer  as  they  did. 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF   JESUS  177 

But  our  Lord  knows  our  weakness;  he  knows  the  physical 
faintness  which  comes  from  long  watching,  the  obscuration 
of  mind  which  comes  from  sorrow,  and  he  is  at  hand  to 
comfort  us  in  our  blind  weeping.  Mary  Magdalene  knew 
him  not,  because  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  till  his  well- 
known  voice  called  her  name.  The  mourning  disciples  as 
they  walked  to  Emmaus  knew  not  that  Jesus  was  walking 
by  them.  And  so,  ever  since,  to  weary  hearts  and  lonely 
homes  the  comforting  Christ  still  comes  invisibly,  with 
sweetness  and  rest,  if  only  we  of  little  faith  would  remem- 
ber his  promises  and  recognize  his  presence.  Still  now, 
as  he  first  announced  himself,  he  comes  "to  heal  the 
broken-hearted,"  and  is  beside  them  ever  in  the  darkest 
and  most  dreadful  hour  of  their  afflictions. 


XXIX 

THE    RESURRECTION    OF    JESUS 

Easter  Sunday 

THERE  is  something  wonderfully  poetic  in  the  simple 
history  given  by  the  different  Evangelists  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  our  Lord.  It  is  like  a  calm,  serene,  dewy  morn- 
ing, after  a  night  of  thunder  and  tempest.  One  of  the 
most  beautiful  features  in  the  narrative  is  the  presence  of 
those  godlike  forms  of  our  angel  brethren.  How  can  it 
be  possible  that  critics  with  human  hearts  have  torn  and 
mangled  this  sacred  picture  for  the  purpose  of  effacing 
these  celestial  forms  —  so  beautiful,  so  glorious!  Is  it 
superstition  to  believe  that  there  are  higher  forms  of  life, 
intellect,  and  energy  than  those  of  earth;  that  there  are 
races  of  superior  beings  between  us  and  the  throne  of  God, 
as  there  are  gradations  below  us  of  less  and  lessening  power 
down  to  the  half- vegetable  zoophytes  ?  These  angels,  with 


178          FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  MASTER 

their  power,  their  purity,  their  unfading  youth,  their  ten- 
der sympathy  for  man,  are  a  radiant  celestial  possibility 
which  every  heart  must  long  to  claim  as  not  only  probable 
but  certain. 

The  history  of  our  Lord  from  first  to  last  is  fragrant 
with  the  sympathy  and  musical  with  the  presence  of  these 
shining  ones.  They  announced  his  coming  to  the  Blessed 
among  Women.  They  filled  the  air  with  songs  and  rejoi- 
cings at  the  hour  of  his  birth.  They  ministered  to  him 
during  his  temptations  in  the  wilderness.  When  repent- 
ant sinners  thronged  about  him  and  Scribes  and  Pharisees 
sneered,  it  was  to  the  sympathy  of  these  invisible  ones 
that  he  turned,  as  those  whose  hearts  thrilled  with  joy 
over  the  repenting  sinner.  In  the  last  mysterious  agony 
at  Gethsemane  it  was  an  angel  that  appeared  and  strength- 
ened him.  And  now  with  what  godlike  energy  do  they 
hasten  upon  their  mission  to  attend  their  king's  awaking! 

"  And,  behold,  there  was  a  great  earthquake,  for  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  descended  from  heaven,  and  rolled  back  the  stone 
from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  sat  upon  it.  His  counte- 
nance was  like  lightning,  and  his  raiment  was  white  as  snow, 
and  for  fear  of  him  the  keepers  did  shake  and  became  as  dead 
men." 

In  another  Evangelist  we  have  a  scene  that  preceded 
this.  These  devoted  women,  in  whose  hearts  love  outlived 
both  faith  and  hope,  rose  while  it  was  yet  dark,  and  set 
out  with  their  spices  and  perfumes  to  go  and  pay  their  last 
tribute  of  affection  and  reverence  to  the  dead. 

They  were  under  fear  of  persecution  and  death;  they 
knew  the  grave  was  sealed  and  watched  by  those  who  had 
slain  their  Lord,  but  still  they  determined  to  go.  There 
was  the  inconsiderate  hardihood  of  love  in  their  undertak- 
ing, and  the  artless  helplessness  of  their  inquiry,  "Who 
will  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  door  ? "  shows  the  des- 
peration of  their  enterprise.  Yet  they  could  not  but 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF  JESUS  179 

believe  that  by  prayers  or  tears  or  offered  payment  —  in 
some  way  —  that  stone  should  be  rolled  away. 

Arrived  on  the  spot,  they  saw  that  the  sepulchre  was 
open  and  empty,  and  Mary  Magdalene,  with  the  impulsive 
haste  and  earnestness  which  marks  her  character,  ran  back 
to  the  house  of  John,  where  were  the  mother  of  Jesus, 
and  Peter,  and  astonished  them  with  the  tidings.  "They 
have  taken  away  the  Lord  out  of  the  sepulchre,  and  we 
know  not  where  they  have  laid  him." 

Nothing  is  said  of  the  Mother  in  this  scene.  Probably 
she  was  utterly  worn  out  and  exhausted  by  the  dreadful 
scenes  of  the  day  before,  and  incapable  of  further  exertion. 
But  Peter  and  John  started  immediately  for  the  sepulchre. 
Meanwhile,  the  two  other  women  went  into  the  sepulchre 
and  stood  there  perplexed,  till  suddenly  they  saw  a  vision 
of  celestial  forms,  radiant  in  immortal  youth  and  clothed 
in  white.  One  said :  — 

"  Be  not  afraid.  I  know  ye  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth  that  was 
crucified.  Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?  He  is  not 
here.  He  is  risen  as  he  said.  Behold  where  they  laid  him. 
Remember  how  he  spake  unto  you  of  this  when  he  was  in  Gal- 
ilee, saying,  The  Son  of  man  must  be  delivered  into  the  hands 
of  sinful  men  and  be  crucified,  and  the  third  day  rise  again." 

And  they  remembered  his  words. 

Furthermore,  the  friendly  spirit  bids  them  to  go  and 
tell  the  disciples  and  Peter  that  their  Master  is  risen  from 
the  dead,  and  is  going  before  them  into  Galilee  —  there 
shall  they  see  him.  And  charged  with  this  message  the 
women  had  fled  from  the  sepulchre  just  as  Peter  and  John 
came  up. 

The  delicacies  of  character  are  strikingly  shown  in  the 
brief  record.  John  outruns  Peter,  stoops  down  and  looks 
into  the  sepulchre;  but  that  species  of  reticence  which 
always  appears  in  him  controls  him  here  —  he  hesitates  to 
enter  the  sacred  place.  Now,  however,  comes  Peter,  im- 


180  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

petuous,  ardent,  determined,  and  passes  right  into  the 
tomb. 

There  is  a  touch  of  homelike  minuteness  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  grave  as  they  found  it  —  no  discovery  of  haste, 
no  sign  of  confusion,  but  all  in  order:  the  linen  grave- 
clothes  lying  in  one  place;  the  napkin  that  was  about  his 
head  not  lying  with  them,  but  folded  together  in  a  place 
by  itself;  indicating  the  perfect  calmness  and  composure 
with  which  their  Lord  had  risen  —  transported  with  no 
rapture  or  surprise,  but,  in  this  supreme  moment,  main- 
taining the  same  tranquillity  which  had  ever  characterized 
him. 

It  is  said  they  saw  and  believed,  though  as  yet  they 
did  not  fully  understand  the  saying  that  he  must  rise  from 
the  dead;  and  they  left  the  place  and  ran  with  the  news 
to  the  disciples. 

But  Mary  still  lingers  weeping  by  the  empty  tomb  — 
type  of  too  many  of  us,  who  forget  that  our  beloved  ones 
have  arisen.  Through  her  tears  she  sees  the  pitying 
angels,  who  ask  her  as  they  might  often  ask  us,  "Why 
weepest  thou  ?  "  She  tells  her  sorrowful  story  —  they 
have  taken  away  her  Lord  and  she  knows  not  where  they 
have  laid  him;  and  yet  at  this  moment  Jesus  is  standing 
by  her,  and  one  word  from  his  voice  changes  all. 

It  is  not  general  truth  or  general  belief  that  our  souls 
need  in  their  anguish;  it  is  one  word  from  Christ  to  us, 
it  is  his  voice  calling  us  by  name,  that  makes  the  dark- 
ness light. 

We  mark  throughout  this  story  the  sympathetic  touches 
of  interest  in  the  angels.  They  had  heard  and  remem- 
bered what  Christ  said  in  Galilee,  though  his  people  had 
forgotten  it.  They  had  had  sympathy  for  the  repentant 
weeping  of  Peter,  and  sent  a  special  message  of  comfort  to 
him.  These  elder  brethren  of  the  household  seem  in  all 
things  most  thoughtful  and  careful  of  human  feelings; 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF  JESUS  181 

they  breathe  around  us  the  spirit  of  that  world  where  an 
unloving  word  or  harsh  judgment  is  an  impossible  concep- 
tion. 

The  earlier  Christian  tradition  speaks  of  our  Lord's  first 
visit  to  his  mother.  It  may  be  that  in  that  space  of  time 
while  Peter  and  John  were  running  to  the  sepulchre  Jesus 
himself  chose  to  draw  near  to  his  mother.  To  her  he  gave 
one  of  his  last  dying  words,  and  we  cannot  but  believe 
that  one  of  his  earliest  risen  messages  of  hope  and  blessing 
was  for  her.  But  over  an  interview  so  peculiar  and  so 
blessed  the  sacred  narrative  has  deemed  it  wise  to  leave 
the  veil  of  silence. 

The  time  after  our  Lord's  resurrection  is  one  full  of 
mysteries.  But  few  things  are  told  us  of  that  life  which 
he  lived  on  earth.  He  no  longer  walked  the  ways  of  men 
as  before  —  no  longer  lived  with  his  disciples,  but  only 
appeared  to  them  from  time  to  time,  as  he  saw  that  they 
needed  comfort,  counsel,  or  rebuke.  We  have  the  beauti- 
ful story  of  the  walk  to  Emmaus.  We  have  accounts  of 
meetings  of  the  disciples  with  closed  doors,  for  fear  of  the 
Jews,  when  Jesus  suddenly  appeared  in  the  midst  of  them, 
saying,  "Peace  be  unto  you!"  and  showing  to  them  his 
hands  and  his  side ;  and  it  is  added,  "  Then  were  the  dis- 
ciples glad  when  they  saw  the  Lord." 

We  have  an  account  of  how  he  suddenly  appeared  to 
them  by  the  Lake  of  Genesareth,  when  they  had  been 
vainly  toiling  all  night  —  how  he  stood  on  the  shore  in  the 
dim  gray  of  morning  and  said,  "Children,  have  ye  any 
meat?"  They  answered  him  "No;"  and  he  said,  "Cast 
the  net  on  the  right  hand  and  ye  shall  find."  And  then 
John  whispers  to  Peter,  "  It  is  the  Lord !  "  and  Peter, 
impetuous  to  the  last,  casts  himself  into  the  water  and 
swims  to  the  shore.  They  find  a  fire  prepared,  a  meal 
ready  for  them,  and  Jesus  to  bless  the  bread,  —  and  very 
sweet  and  lovely  was  the  interview. 


182  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

How  many  such  visits  and  interviews  there  were  — 
when  and  with  whom  —  we  have  no  means  of  knowing, 
though  St.  John  indicates  that  there  were  many  other 
things  which  Jesus  said  and  did  worthy  of  record  besides 
those  of  which  we  are  told.  We  learn  from  St.  Paul  that 
he  appeared  to  more  than  five  hundred  of  his  followers  at 
once  —  a  meeting  not  described  by  any  of  the  Evangelists. 

It  is  believed  by  many  Christians  that  Christ  is  yet 
coming  to  reign  visibly  upon  this  earth.  That  Christ 
should  reign  in  any  one  spot  or  city  of  this  earth,  as 
earthly  kings  reign,  with  a  court  and  human  forms  of 
administration,  is  suggestive  of  grave  difficulties.  The 
embarrassments  in  the  way  of  our  Centennial  Exhibition 
this  year,  the  fatigue  and  disturbance  and  danger  to  health 
and  life  of  such  crowds  coming  and  going,  might  suggest 
what  would  be  the  effect  on  human  society  if  in  any  one 
earthly  place  the  universal  object  of  all  human  desire  were 
located.  But  it  may  be  possible  that  the  barrier  between 
the  spiritual  world  and  ours  will  be  so  far  removed  that 
the  presence  of  our  Lord  and  his  saints  may  at  times  be 
with  us,  even  as  Christ  was  with  the  disciples  in  this 
interval.  It  may  become  a  lawful  subject  of  desire  and 
prayer  and  expectation.  It  may  be  in  that  day  that  in 
assemblies  of  his  people  Jesus  will  suddenly  stand,  saying, 
"  Peace  be  unto  you !  "  Such  appearances  could  take  place 
in  all  countries  and  lands,  according  to  human  needs,  with- 
out deranging  human  society. 

But  whether  visibly  or  by  the  manifestation  of  his 
Spirit,  let  us  hasten  and  look  forward  to  that  final  second 
coming  of  our  Master,  when  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
shall  be  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  his  Christ. 


THE   ASCENSION   OF  OUR   LORD  183 

XXX 

THE    ASCENSION    OF    OUR    LORD 

Ascension  Day 

AT  length  the  visible  and  mortal  pilgrimage  of  our  Lord 
was  over,  and  the  time  come  when  he  must  return  to  his 
home  in  heaven,  to  the  glory  with  the  Father  which  he 
had  before  the  world  was. 

We  cannot  fail  to  notice  the  calmness,  brevity,  and  sim- 
plicity with  which  this  crowning  act  of  his  life  is  recorded. 
He  had  before  told  his  disciples  that  it  was  better  for 
them  that  his  visible  presence  should  be  withdrawn  from 
them,  and  that  when  ascended  to  the  Father  he  should  be 
with  them  as  an  intimate  spiritual  presence  and  power. 
He  now  speaks  to  them  of  a  baptism  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
that  they  should  receive  after  his  ascension,  and  bids  them 
tarry  in  Jerusalem  till  they  be  endued  with  this  power 
from  on  high. 

Then  the  narrative  says:  "And  he  led  them  out  as  far 
as  Bethany;  and  he  lifted  up  his  hands  and  blessed  them, 
and  while  he  blessed  them  he  was  parted  from  them  and 
taken  up  into  heaven;  and  a  cloud  received  him  out  of 
their  sight.  And  while  they  were  looking  steadfastly  to 
heaven,  as  he  went  up,  behold  two  men  stood  by  them  in 
white  apparel,  who  said,  Ye  men  of  Galilee,  why  stand  ye 
gazing  up  into  heaven?  This  same  Jesus  which  is  taken 
from  you  into  heaven  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye 
have  seen  him  go.  And  they  worshipped  him,  and  returned 
to  Jerusalem  with  great  joy  from  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
and  were  continually  in  the  temple  praising  and  blessing 
God.'7 

The  forty  days  that  Jesus  lingered  on  earth  had,  it 
seems,  not  been  in  vain.  His  mourning  flock  were  con- 


184  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

soled  and  brought  to  such  a  point  of  implicit  faith  that  the 
final  separation  was  full  of  joy. 

They  were  at  last  convinced  that  it  was  better  for  them 
that  he  go  to  the  Father  —  that  an  ascended  Lord,  seated 
at  the  right  hand  of  power  and  shedding  down  spiritual 
light  and  joy,  was  better  than  any  earthly  presence,  how- 
ever dear.  Christ,  as  a  living  power  of  inspiration  in  the 
soul,  was  henceforth  to  be  nearer,  dearer,  more  inseparable, 
more  consoling  and  helpful  than  the  man  of  Nazareth  had 
ever  been. 

Let  us  all  with  one  heart  unite  in  the  beautiful  prayer 
of  the  church  for  this  day:  "0  God,  the  King  of  Glory, 
who  hast  exalted  thine  only  Son  Jesus  Christ  with  great 
triumph  unto  thy  Kingdom  in  Heaven,  we  beseech  thee 
leave  us  not  comfortless;  but  send  to  us  thy  Holy  Ghost 
to  comfort  and  exalt  us  to  that  same  place  whither  our 
Saviour  Christ  is  gone  before  us,  who  liveth  and  reigneth 
with  Thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one  God,  world 
without  end.  Amen." 


XXXI 

THE    HOLY    SPIRIT 

Whitsuntide 

WHEN  our  Saviour  was  to  go  forth  on  his  great  mission 
he  spent  forty  days  in  prayer;  and  so  now  his  little  church 
were  to  spend  forty  days  of  waiting  and  devotion  till  they 
should  receive  the  gift  from  on  high.  What  that  gift  was 
we  can  see  in  their  history.  How  dark,  how  confused, 
how  unspiritual  their  views,  how  low  their  faith,  how 
easily  upset  by  the  storms  of  persecution !  But  when  the 
divine  influence  came  upon  them,  what  a  change !  What 
clearness,  what  insight,  what  -courage,  what  power !  When 


THE   HOLY   SPIRIT  185 

brought  before  kings  and  rulers  they  bore  joyous  testi- 
mony; when  beaten  ignominiously  they  went  out  rejoicing 
that  they  were  counted  worthy  to  suffer  shame  for  his 
sake. 

Do  not  all  ministers  of  Christ,  all  Christians  to  whose 
keeping  his  honor  and  cause  is  confided,  need  such  a  bap- 
tism as  this,  such  a  new  birth  in  spiritual  things?  For 
the  gift  came  not  merely  on  the  twelve  Apostles,  but  on 
the  whole  company  of  believers,  both  men  and  women. 
We  read  the  names  of  the  twelve,  and  then  are  told  that 
"  these  all  continued  with  one  accord  in  prayer  and  suppli- 
cation with  the  women,  and  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus, 
and  his  brethren,"  —  a  company  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
persons. 

They  were  united  day  after  day  in  prayer  —  their  whole 
souls,  with  one  accord,  were  lifted  heavenward;  all  earthly 
scenes  and  interests  were  put  aside,  and  the  attitude  of 
their  minds  was  one  of  ardent  desire  and  expectancy. 

It  was  to  souls  so  raised,  so  enkindled,  that  at  last  the 
glorious  gift  came  —  the  spiritual  power  that  made  every 
Christian  man  and  woman  among  them  an  inspired  and 
convincing  witness  for  Christ.  The  world  witnessed  that 
day  a  new  sight  —  an  invisible  spiritual  power,  before 
which  thousands  bowed  at  the  name  of  that  Jesus  whom 
but  a  few  weeks  before  they  had  seen  crucified.  And 
why  have  we  not  such  a  baptism  and  such  a  power  1  Is 
our  faith  what  it  should  be,  —  our  zeal,  our  devotion  ?  If 
all  Christians  were  like  us,  would  the  world  ever  be  con- 
verted to  God?  Is  there  a  gift  of  spiritual  power  and 
constancy  of  faith  to  be  had  in  answer  to  fervent  prayer? 
and  should  we  not  seek  it  as  they  did?  Of  late  there 
have  been  in  Europe  and  in  this  country  large  conventions 
of  Christians  of  all  names  and  denominations  to  pray  and 
seek  for  this  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  enable  them  to 
witness  for  Christ  as  these  witnessed;  it  is  a  most  joyful 


186  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

sign  of  our  times.  Let  us  hope  that  such  prayers  may  be 
answered  in  bringing  back  to  the  modern  church  something 
of  the  fervor,  the  simplicity,  the  entire  devotion  that 
characterized  these  first  Christians.  It  is  not  by  arguing 
with  skeptics,  but  by  a  divine  and  holy  life,  that  Chris- 
tians are  to  convince  the  world  of  the  truth  of  our  religion. 
It  is  "Christ  in  us,  the  hope  of  glory,"  that  is  to  be  the 
power  that  shall  convert  the  world. 


XXXII 
CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS 

IN  a  moment  of  profound  emotion,  when  our  Lord  con- 
templated the  near  approach  of  the  last  tragedy  in  his  life, 
he  said:  "Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and 
die,  it  abideth  alone;  but  if  it  die  it  bringeth  forth  much 
fruit." 

Accordingly,  it  was  but  little  more  than  a  month  after 
the  scenes  of  Calvary  before  Jerusalem  was  filled  with  a 
harvest  of  men  and  women  who  were  born  into  the  Christ- 
life,  and  were  living  and  acting  in  his  spirit. 

At  the  feast  of  Pentecost  Jerusalem  was  full  of  strangers, 
devout  Jews  from  every  nation  under  heaven,  and  three 
thousand  in  one  day  bowed  at  the  feet  of  the  Jesus  whom 
they  had  crucified.  The  chief  priests  were  enraged  and 
terrified,  for  everywhere  the  Apostles  of  this  crucified 
Jesus,  inspired  with  a  supernatural  courage,  were  working 
miracles  and  preaching  with  an  energy  even  more  overcom- 
ing than  that  of  the  Master.  Jesus  had  been  among  them 
but  as  one  man;  he  had  come  back  as  twelve  men,  every 
one  of  whom  was  full  of  him,  working  his  works  and 
preaching  him  with  overwhelming  power. 

It  is  most  impressive  to  read  in  the  Book  of  Acts  how 


CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS      187 

Peter  and  John  were  called  before  Annas  and  Caiaphas  — 
the  very  tribunal  before  which  Jesus  so  lately  stood,  the 
tribunal  before  which  Peter  denied  him  and  John  stood  in 
trembling  silence.  Now  these  same  men  face  high  priests 
and  elders  with  heads  erect  and  flashing  eyes,  and  say :  — 

"  If  we  be  this  day  examined  of  the  good  deed  done  to  the 
impotent  man,  be  it  known  unto  you  that  by  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ  of  Nazareth,  whom  you  crucified  and  whom  God  raised 
from  the  dead,  doth  this  man  stand  before  you  whole.  This  is 
the  stone  which  was  set  at  naught  of  you  builders,  which  has 
become  the  head  of  the  corner ;  neither  is  there  salvation  in 
any  other." 

We  can  imagine  the  dismay  of  the  Sanhedrim  when 
such  men  and  such  sermons  met  them  at  every  corner. 
The  record  says  that,  perceiving  the  boldness  of  Peter  and 
John,  and  knowing  that  they  were  unlearned  men,  they 
marveled,  and  took  knowledge  of  them  that  they  had  been 
with  Jesus! 

It  is  not  likely  that  the  high  priest  had  forgotten  the 
recent  time  when  Jesus  stood  bound  before  him.  Evi- 
dently even  then  his  manner  had  inspired  a  secret  misgiv- 
ing awe;  and  here  were  these  disciples  now  looking  and 
speaking  just  like  him,  with  the  same  certainty,  the  same 
majesty.  It  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth  returning  in  his  fol- 
lowers. It  was  a  terror  to  them  all.  But  we  are  told  the 
word  of  God  grew  and  prevailed,  the  converts  increased  in 
crowds  daily,  "a  great  company  of  the  priests  were  obedi- 
ent "  to  the  word.  Of  course  persecution  raged.  To  con- 
fess Christ  was  to  lose  place,  patronage,  and  daily  bread. 
The  Christians,  in  their  new  joy,  met  this  by  throwing  all 
their  worldly  possessions  into  a  common  stock  and  appor- 
tioning support  to  each. 

There  were  rich  men  like  Nicodemus,  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea,  and  many  others,  and  we  read  of  men  who  sold  all 
they  had  and  laid  the  money  at  the  Apostles'  feet.  Thus 


188  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE  MASTER 

those  who  daily  were  thrown  out  of  employment  for 
Christ's  sake  were  supported  and  relieved.  A  great  finan- 
cial and  administrative  business  grew  up  out  of  this  state 
of  things,  and  we  are  told  that  there  arose  a  murmuring 
among  the  foreign-born  Jews  that  their  widows  were 
neglected  in  the  apportionment  of  aid. 

The  Jews  have  been  in  all  ages  a  trading  nation.  Pales- 
tine was  a  little  country  situated  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
ancient  civilized  world.  It  was  a  centre  of  emigration. 
Colonies  of  Jews,  bearing  their  religion,  their  synagogue, 
their  national  zeal,  had  foothold  and  maintained  Jewish 
worship  in  almost  every  leading  city  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
They  were  called,  according  to  their  country,  Greeks  or 
Romans,  while  as  to  religion  and  race  they  were  Jews. 

It  appears  that  the  proportion  of  Greek-born  Jews  among 
the  converts  was  so  great  as  to  warrant  the  appointment  of 
seven  deacons,  all  of  whom  bear  names  which  show  their 
Grecian  origin.  Stephen  was  evidently  a  noted  man 
among  them.  He  is  described  as  full  of  faith  and  the 
Holy  Ghost.  For  aught  we  know,  Stephen  may  have 
been  one  of  those  Greeks  who,  during  the  last  week  of 
Christ's  life  in  Jerusalem,  came  to  his  disciples,  saying, 
"Sir,  we  would  see  Jesus."  He  may  have  been  among 
the  first-fruits  of  that  harvest  which  Christ  then  foresaw 
when  he  said,  "I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men 
unto  me."  He  seems  to  have  been  of  a  nature  peculiarly 
receptive  and  lovely  —  a  beautiful  medium  through  whom 
the  Christ-spirit  could  reveal  itself.  If  he  had  been  in 
Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  Christ's  death,  and  witnessed 
the  scenes  of  Calvary,  we  may  well  believe  what  a  fervor 
was  enkindled  in  his  soul,  and  with  what  zeal  he  devoted 
himself  to  him.  His  activity  was  not  confined  to  the  tem- 
poral ministrations  which  were  committed  to  him.  He  is 
described  as  "full  of  faith  and  power,  and  doing  great 
miracles."  He  maintained  the  cause  of  Jesus  in  word  as 


CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS      189 

well  as  deed.  Certain  leaders  in  a  Jewish  synagogue,  of 
Greek  extraction  like  himself,  who  still  clung  to  Jewish 
prejudices,  disputed  with  him,  and  we  are  told  they  were 
not  able  to  resist  the  wisdom  and  power  with  which  he 
spoke.  A  tumult  was  stirred  up,  and  Stephen  was 
brought  before  the  Sanhedrim,  and  stood  in  the  place 
where  his  Master  had  stood  before  him.  Again,  as  before, 
it  was  the  Jewish  national  pride  and  bitterness  that  were 
arrayed  against  him.  Stephen  had  shown  the  glories  of 
that  new  spiritual  kingdom  which  Christ  was  bringing  in, 
where  there  should  be  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  barbarian, 
Scythian,  bond  nor  free,  but  Christ  should  be  all  in  all. 
So  the  accusation  was  formulated  against  him :  — 

"We  have  heard  him  say  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  shall 
destroy  this  place  and  shall  change  the  customs  which  Moses 
delivered  unto  us." 

The  High  Priest  probably  felt  that  now  he  had  got  a 
leading  Christian  at  advantage.  He  would  meet  now  and 
expose  this  sect  that  threatened  to  overthrow  their  country 
and  destroy  their  venerable  religion.  He  said  to  Stephen, 
with  a  semblance  of  moderation  and  justice,  "Are  these 
things  so  1 " 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  Stephen  seems  to  have 
been  so  filled  by  the  vision  of  the  glory  and  beauty  of  the 
new  life  which  was  opening  before  the  world,  that  he 
could  not  speak.  It  is  said :  — 

"  And  all  that  sat  in  the  council,  looking  steadfastly  on  him, 
saw  his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel." 

Then  began  that  noble  speech,  evidently  the  speech  of 
a  Greek-born  Jew,  who  had  studied  the  Hebrew  history 
from  a  different  standpoint  from  the  Rabbins.  It  is  clear 
from  the  fragment  of  this  address  that  it  was  designed  to 
show,  even  by  their  past  history,  that  God's  dealings  with 
his  people  had  been  irrespective  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem 
and  the  worship  there.  He  dwelt  on  God's  calling  of 


190  FOOTSTEPS   OF  THE   MASTER 

Abraham,  his  sojourn  in  Canaan  before  he  possessed  it; 
of  God's  suffering  the  chosen  race  to  sojourn  in  Egypt;  of 
Moses,  born  and  nurtured  in  a  Gentile  court,  and  educated 
in  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians.  This  man,  who  lived 
to  the  age  of  forty  years  as  an  Egyptian  prince,  begins  to 
offer  himself  as  a  guide  and  teacher  to  his  oppressed 
people,  but  they  reject  his  mission  with  scorn.  Then 
comes  the  scene  of  the  appearance  of  Jehovah  for  their 
rescue  and  the  appointment  of  Moses  to  accomplish  their 
deliverance,  and  he  drives  home  the  parallel  between  Moses 
and  the  rejected  Jesus. 

This  Moses,  whom  they  refused,  saying,  "Who  made 
thee  a  ruler  arid  a  judge  ? "  the  same  did  God  send  to  be 
a  ruler  and  a  deliverer.  "  This  is  that  Moses  who  said, 
A  Prophet  shall  the  Lord  your  God  raise  up  unto  you  like 
unto  me:  him  shall  ye  hear."  He  then  shows  how  the 
Jewish  nation  disobeyed  Moses  and  God,  and  turned  back 
to  the  golden  calf  of  Egypt.  He  traces  their  history  till 
the  time  of  the  building  of  the  temple,  but  adds  that  "the 
Most  High  dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands,  as 
saith  the  prophet:  Heaven  is  my  throne  and  earth  is  my 
footstool:  what  house  will  ye  build  me?  saith  the  Lord. 
Hath  not  my  hand  made  all  these  things  1 "  We  may 
imagine  the  fervor,  the  energy  of  this  brief  history,  the 
tone,  the  spirit, 'the  flashing  eye  that  gave  point  to  every 
incident.  It  was  perfectly  evident  what  he  was  coming 
to,  what  use  he  was  going  to  make  of  this  recital  —  that 
the  Jews  were  not  God's  favorites  per  se  ;  that  they  were 
and  always  had  been  an  ungrateful,  rebellious  people;  that 
God  had  chosen  them,  in  spite  of  their  sins,  to  be  the 
unworthy  guardians  and  receivers  of  a  great  mission  for 
the  whole  world;  that  the  temple  was  not  a  necessity,  that 
it  came  late  in  their  history,  and  that  God  himself  had 
declared  his  superiority  to  it.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he 
was  coming  round  to  the  mission  of  Jesus,  the  prophet 


CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS      191 

whom  Moses  had  predicted,  and  whom  they  had  rejected 
as  they  did  Moses.  But  there  was  evidently  a  tumult 
rising,  and  Stephen  saw  that  he  was  about  to  be  inter- 
rupted, and  therefore,  suddenly,  leaving  the  narrative 
unfinished,  he  breaks  forth :  — 

"  Ye  stiffnecked  and  uncircumcised  in  heart  and  ears,  ye  do 
always  resist  the  Holy  Ghost  —  as  your  fathers  did  so  do  ye. 
Which  of  the  prophets  have  not  your  fathers  persecuted  ?  They 
slew  them  which  prophesied  the  coming  of  that  Just  One  of 
whom  ye  have  been  the  betrayers  and  murderers ;  who  have 
received  the  law  by  the  dispensation  of  angels  and  have  not 
kept  it." 

These  words  were  as  coals  dropping  upon  naphtha. 
They  were  cut  to  the  heart;  they  gnashed  on  him  with 
their  teeth;  they  raved  round  him  as  wild  beasts  who 
collect  themselves  for  a  deadly  spring. 

"  But  he,  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  looked  up  steadfastly  into 
heaven  and  saw  the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the 
right  hand  of  God." 

There  was  something  in  his  rapt  appearance,  his  pale, 
upturned  face  and  eager  eyes,  that  caused  a  moment's 
silence. 

In  a  voice  of  exultation  and  awe  he  said :  — 

"  Behold !  I  see  the  heavens  opened  and  the  Son  of  man  stand- 
ing on  the  right  hand  of  God." 

The  Son  of  man !  —  the  very  words  that  Christ  had  used 
when  he  stood  before  Caiaphas  about  fifty  days  before, 
when  he  said,  "Hereafter  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  man 
coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven ! " 

There  was  a  frantic  shriek  of  rage.  The  court  broke 
up  and  became  a  blind,  infuriate  mob.  All  consideration 
was  forgotten  in  the  blind  passion  of  the  hour.  Though 
they  had  no  legal  right  to  take  life  without  a  Roman  sen- 
tence, they  determined  to  have  the  blood  of  this  man,  cost 
what  it  might. 


192  FOOTSTEPS   OF   THE   MASTER 

They  hurried  him  out  of  the  city  with  curses  and  exe- 
crations. The  executioners  stripped  off  their  outer  gar- 
ments to  prepare  for  the  butchery,  and  laid  them  down  at 
the  feet  of  a  young  zealot  named  Saul  of  Tarsus. 

There  are  many  paintings  of  this  scene  in  the  galleries 
of  Europe.  We  may  imagine  him,  pale  and  enraptured, 
looking  up  into  the  face  of  that  Jesus  whom  he  saw  in 
glory,  and  as  they  threw  him  violently  down  he  cried, 
"Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit."  Rising  to  his  knees, 
wounded  and  bleeding,  he  added,  "Lord,  lay  not  this  sin 
to  their  charge."  And  then,  says  the  narrative,  "He  fell 
asleep. " 

The  sweetness  and  tenderness  of  this  expression  shows 
more  than  anything  else  how  completely  the  faith  of  Christ 
had  conquered  death.  Christians  spoke  of  death  simply 
as  a  sleep.  And  here  amid  the  hootings  and  revilings  of 
a  mob,  the  crash  of  stones  and  insult  and  execration, 
nothing  could  hinder  Christ's  beloved  from  falling  asleep. 
At  peace  within,  with  a  heaven  of  love  in  his  soul,  he 
pitied  and  prayed  for  the  wretched  creatures  who  were 
murdering  him,  and  passed  to  the  right  hand  of  Jesus  — 
the  first  who  had  sealed  his  testimony  with  his  blood. 

Thus  was  sown  again  the  first  perfected  seed  of  the  ruew 
wheat  which  rose  from  the  grave  of  Christ!  Jesus  was 
the  first  whom  the  world  ever  saw  praying  with  his  dying 
breath  for  his  murderers;  and  Stephen,  who  had  risen  to 
the  same  majesty  of  denunciation  and  rebuke  of  sin  which 
characterized  his  master,  was  baptized  into  the  same  ten- 
derness of  prayer  for  the  miserable  mob  who  were  howling 
like  wild  beasts  around  him.  Heavenly  love  never  shrinks 
from  denouncing  sin;  but  it  has  a  prayer  for  the  sinner 
ever  in  its  breast,  and  the  nearer  it  comes  to  the  higher 
world  the  more  it  pities  this  lower  one. 

But  though  the  orator  was  crushed  the  cause  was  not 
lost. 


CHRIST'S  SECOND  LIFE,  IN  HIS  FOLLOWERS      193 

Jesus,  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  had  only  to 
reach  forth  and  touch  that  Saul  of  Tarsus  who  stood  con- 
senting to  his  death,  and  he  fell  down  at  his  feet  trem- 
bling, crying,  "Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?" 

The  noble  work  which  Stephen  had  begun,  the  message 
of  universal  love  to  Jew  and  Gentile,  passed  from  the 
hands  of  dying  Stephen  to 'the  living  Paul,  who  from  that 
hour  spoke  the  sentiment  that  must  be  the  animating  spirit 
of  every  true  lover  and  follower  of  the  Master's  footsteps: 
"  I  am  crucified  with  Christ ;  and  now  it  is  no  more  I  that 
live,  but  Christ  that  liveth  in  me." 


EAETHLY  CAEE  A  HEAVENLY  DISCIPLINE 

"Why  should  these  cares  my  heart  divide, 

If  Thou,  indeed,  hast  set  me  free  ? 

Why  am  I  thus,  if  Thou  hast  died  — 

If  Thou  hast  died  to  ransom  me  ?  " 

NOTHING  is  more  frequently  felt  and  spoken  of,  as  a 
hindrance  to  the  inward  life  of  devotion,  than  the  "cares 
of  life ; "  and  even  upon  the  showing  of  our  Lord  himself, 
the  cares  of  the  world  are  the  thorns  that  choke  the  word, 
and  it  becometh  unfruitful. 

And  yet,  if  this  is  a  necessary  and  inevitable  result  of 
worldly  care,  why  does  the  providence  of  God  so  order 
things  that  it  forms  so  large  and  unavoidable  a  part  of 
every  human  experience  ?  Why  is  the  physical  system  of 
man  arranged  with  such  daily,  oft-recurring  wants?  Why 
does  his  nature,  in  its  full  development,  tend  to  that  state 
of  society  in  which  wants  multiply,  and  the  business  of 
supply  becomes  more  complicated,  and  requiring  constantly 
more  thought  and  attention,  and  bringing  the  outward  and 
seen  into  a  state  of  constant  friction  and  pressure  on  the 
inner  and  spiritual  ? 

Has  God  arranged  an  outward  system  to  be  a  constant 
diversion  from  the  inward  —  a  weight  on  its  wheels  —  a 
burden  on  its  wings  —  and  then  commanded  a  strict  and 
rigid  inwardness  and  spirituality  ?  Why  placed  us  where 
the  things  that  are  seen  and  temporal  must  unavoidably 
have  so  much  of  our  thoughts,  and  time,  and  care,  yet  said 
to  us,  "Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  and  not  on 
things  on  the  earth.  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the 
things  of  the  world  "  ?  And  why  does  one  of  our  brightest 


EARTHLY  CAEE  A  HEAVENLY  DISCIPLINE          195 

examples  of  Christian  experience,  as  it  should  be,  say, 
"While  we  look  not  on  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  on 
the  things  which  are  not  seen;  for  the  things  which  are 
seen  are  temporal,  but  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are 
eternal "  ? 

The  Bible  tells  us  that  our  whole  existence  here  is  a 
disciplinary  one;  that  this  whole  physical  system,  by 
which  our  spirit  is  inclosed  with  all  the  joys  and  sorrows, 
hopes  and  fears,  and  wants  which  form  a  part  of  it,  are 
designed  as  an  education  to  fit  the  soul  for  its  immortality ; 
and  as  worldly  care  forms  the  greater  part  of  the  staple  of 
every  human  life,  there  must  be  some  mode  of  viewing 
and  meeting  it,  which  converts  it  from  an  enemy  of  spirit- 
uality into  a  means  of  grace  and  spiritual  advancement. 

Why,  then,  do  we  so  often  hear  the  lamentation,  "It 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  could  advance  to  the  higher  stages  of 
Christian  life,  if  it  were  not  for  the  pressure  of  my  busi- 
ness and  the  multitude  of  my  worldly  cares  "  1  Is  it  not 
God,  0  Christian,  who,  in  ordering  thy  lot,  has  laid  these 
cares  upon  thee,  and  who  still  holds  them  about  thee,  and 
permits  no  escape  from  them  1  And  as  his  great,  undivided 
object  is  thy  spiritual  improvement,  is  there  not  some 
misapprehension  or  wrong  use  of  these  cares,  if  they  do 
not  tend  to  advance  it?  Is  it  not  even  as  if  a  scholar 
should  say,  I  could  advance  in  science  were  it  not  for  all 
the  time  and  care  which  lessons,  and  books,  and  lectures 
require  ? 

How,  then,  shall  earthly  care  become  heavenly  disci- 
pline ?  How  shall  the  disposition  of  the  weight  be  altered 
so  as  to  press  the  spirit  upward  towards  God,  instead  of 
downward  and  away  ?  How  shall  the  pillar  of  cloud  which 
rises  between  us  and  him  become  one  of  fire,  to  reflect 
upon  us  constantly  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  to 
guide  us  over  the  sands  of  life's  desert? 

It  appears  to  us  that  the  great  radical  difficulty  is  an 


196  EARTHLY   CARE   A   HEAVENLY   DISCIPLINE 

intellectual  one,  and  lies  in  a  wrong  belief.  There  is  not 
a  genuine  and  real  belief  of  the  presence  and  agency  of 
God  in  the  minor  events  and  details  of  life,  which  is 
necessary  to  change  them  from  secular  cares  into  spiritual 
blessings. 

It  is  true  there  is  much  loose  talk  about  an  overruling 
Providence;  and  yet,  if  fairly  stated,  the  belief  of  a  great 
many  Christians  might  be  thus  expressed:  God  has  organ- 
ized and  set  in  operation  certain  general  laws  of  matter 
and  mind,  which  work  out  the  particular  results  of  life, 
and  over  these  laws  he  exercises  a  general  supervision  and 
care,  so  that  all  the  great  affairs  of  the  world  are  carried 
on  after  the  counsel  of  his  own  will;  and  in  a  certain 
general  sense,  all  things  are  working  together  for  good  to 
those  that  love  God.  But  when  some  simple-minded, 
childlike  Christian  really  proceeds  to  refer  all  the  smaller 
events  of  life  to  God's  immediate  care  and  agency,  there 
is  a  smile  of  incredulity,  and  it  is  thought  that  the  good 
brother  displays  more  Christian  feeling  than  sound  philoso- 
phy- 

But  as  life  for  every  individual  is  made  up  of  fractions 
and  minute  atoms  —  as  those  things  which  go  to  affect 
habits  and  character  are  small  and  hourly  recurring,  it 
comes  to  pass  that  a  belief  in  Providence  so  very  wide  and 
general  is  altogether  inefficient  for  consecrating  and  ren- 
dering sacred  the  great  body  of  what  comes  in  contact  with 
the  mind  in  the  experience  of  life.  Only  once  in  years 
does  the  Christian  with  this  kind  of  belief  hear  the  voice 
of  the  Lord  God  speaking  to  him.  When  the  hand  of 
death  is  laid  on  his  child,  or  the  bolt  strikes  down  the 
brother  by  his  side,  then,  indeed,  he  feels  that  God  is 
drawing  near ;  he  listens  humbly  for  the  inward  voice  that 
shall  explain  the  meaning  and  need  of  this  discipline. 
When  by  some  unforeseen  occurrence  the  whole  of  his 
earthly  property  is  swept  away,  —  he  becomes  a  poor  man, 


EARTHLY   CAKE   A   HEAVENLY   DISCIPLINE  197 

—  this  event,  in  his  eyes,  assumes  sufficient  magnitude  to 
have  coine  from  God,  and  to  have  a  design  and  meaning; 
but  when  smaller  comforts  are  removed,  smaller  losses  are 
encountered,  and  the  petty  every-day  vexations  and  annoy- 
ances of  life  press  about  him,  he  recognizes  no  God,  and 
hears  no  voice,  and  sees  no  design.  Hence  John  Newton 
says,  "Many  Christians,  who  bear  the  loss  of  a  child,  or 
the  destruction  of  all  their  property,  with  the  most  heroic 
Christian  fortitude,  are  entirely  vanquished  and  overcome 
by  the  breaking  of  a  dish,  or  the  blunders  of  a  servant, 
and  show  so  unchristian  a  spirit,  that  we  cannot  but 
wonder  at  them. " 

So  when  the  breath  of  slander,  or  the  pressure  of  human 
injustice,  comes  so  heavily  on  a  man  as  really  to  threaten 
loss  of  character,  and  destruction  of  his  temporal  interests, 
he  seems  forced  to  recognize  the  hand  and  voice  of  God, 
through  the  veil  of  human  agencies,  and  in  time-honored 
words  to  say :  — 

"  When  men  of  spite  against  me  join, 
They  are  the  sword;  the  hand  is  thine." 

But  the  smaller  injustice  and  fault-finding  which  meet 
every  one  more  or  less  in  the  daily  intercourse  of  life,  the 
overheard  remark,  the  implied  censure,  too  petty,  perhaps, 
to  be  even  spoken  of,  these  daily  recurring  sources  of  dis- 
quietude and  unhappiness  are  not  referred  to  God's  provi- 
dence, nor  considered  as  a  part  of  his  probation  and  disci- 
pline. Those  thousand  vexations  which  come  upon  us 
through  the  unreasonableness,  the  carelessness,  the  various 
constitutional  failings,  or  ill  adaptedness  of  others  to  our 
peculiarities  of  character,  form  a  very  large  item  of  the 
disquietudes  of  life;  and  yet  how  very  few  look  beyond 
the  human  agent,  and  feel  these  are  trials  coming  from 
God!  Yet  it  is  true,  in  many  cases,  that  these  so-called 
minor  vexations  form  the  greater  part,  and  in  many  cases 
the  only  discipline  of  life;  and  to  those  that  do  not  view 


198  EARTHLY   CAKE   A   HEAVENLY    DISCIPLINE 

them  as  ordered  individually  by  God,  and  coming  upon 
them  by  specified  design,  "  their  affliction  *  really  '  cometh 
of  the  dust,  and  their  trouble  springs  out  of  the  ground ; " 
it  is  sanctified  and  relieved  by  no  divine  presence  and  aid, 
but  borne  alone  and  in  a  mere  human  spirit,  and  by  mere 
human  reliances;  it  acts  on  the  mind  as  a  constant  diver- 
sion and  hindrance,  instead  of  a  moral  discipline. 

Hence,  too,  come  a  coldness,  and  generality,  and  wan- 
dering of  mind  in  prayer:  the  things  that  are  on  the  heart, 
that  are  distracting  the  mind,  that  have  filled  the  soul  so 
full  that  there  is  no  room  for  anything  else,  are  all  con- 
sidered too  small  and  undignified  to  come  within  the  pale  of 
a  prayer  and  so,  with  a  wandering  mind  and  a  distracted 
heart,  the  Christian  offers  up  his  prayer  for  things  which 
he  thinks  he  ought  to  want,  and  makes  no  mention  of 
those  which  he  does.  He  prays  that  God  would  pour  out 
his  spirit  on  the  heathen,  and  convert  the  world,  and 
build  up  his  kingdom  everywhere,  when  perhaps  a  whole 
set  of  little  anxieties,  and  wants,  and  vexations  are  so 
distracting  his  thoughts,  that  he  hardly  knows  what  he 
has  been  saying:  a  faithless  servant  is  wasting  his  pro- 
perty; a  careless  or  blundering  workman  has  spoiled  a  lot 
of  goods ;  a  child  is  vexatious  or  unruly ;  a  friend  has  made 
promises  and  failed  to  keep  them;  an  acquaintance  has 
made  unjust  or  satirical  remarks;  some  new  furniture  has 
been  damaged  or  ruined  by  carelessness  in  the  household; 
but  all  this  trouble  forms  no  subject  matter  for  prayer, 
though  there  it  is,  all  the  while  lying  like  lead  on  the 
heart,  and  keeping  it  down,  so  that  it  has  no  power  to 
expand  and  take  in  anything  else.  But  were  God  known 
and  regarded  as  the  soul's  familiar  friend,  were  every 
trouble  of  the  heart  as  it  rises  breathed  into  his  bosom, 
were  it  felt  that  there  is  not  one  of  the  smallest  of  life's 
troubles  that  has  not  been  permitted  by  him,  and  permitted 
for  specific  good  purpose  to  the  soul,  how  much  more 


EARTHLY   CARE   A   HEAVENLY   DISCIPLINE  199 

would  these  be  in  prayer!  how  constant,  how  daily  might 
it  become!  how  it  might  settle  and  clear  the  atmosphere 
of  the  soul!  how  it  might  so  dispose  and  lay  away  many 
anxieties  which  now  take  up  their  place  there,  that  there 
might  be  room  for  the  higher  themes  and  considerations  of 
religion ! 

Many  sensitive  and  fastidious  natures  are  worn  away  by 
the  constant  friction  of  what  are  called  little  troubles. 
Without  any  great  affliction,  they  feel  that  all  the  flower 
and  sweetness  of  their  life  have  faded;  their  eye  grows 
dim,  their  cheek  care-worn,  and  their  spirit  loses  hope  and 
elasticity,  and  becomes  bowed  with  premature  age ;  and  in 
the  midst  of  tangible  and  physical  comfort,  they  are  rest- 
less and  unhappy.  The  constant  undercurrent  of  little 
cares  and  vexations,  which  is  slowly  wearing  on  the  finer 
springs  of  life,  is  seen  by  no  one;  scarce  ever  do  they 
speak  of  these  things  to  their  nearest  friends.  Yet  were 
there  a  friend  of  a  spirit  so  discerning  as  to  feel  and  sym- 
pathize in  all  these  things,  how  much  of  this  repressed 
electric  restlessness  would  pass  off  through  such  a  sympa- 
thizing mind. 

Yet  among  human  friends  this  is  all  but  impossible,  for 
minds  are  so  diverse  that  what  is  a  trial  and  a  care  to  one 
is  a  matter  of  sport  and  amusement  to  another;  and  all  the 
inner  world  breathed  into  a  human  ear  only  excites  a  sur- 
prised or  contemptuous  pity.  Whom,  then,  shall  the  soul 
turn  to?  Who  will  feel  that  to  be  affliction  which  each 
spirit  feels  to  be  so  ?  If  the  soul  shut  itself  within  itself, 
it  becomes  morbid;  the  fine  chords  of  the  mind  and  nerves 
by  constant  wear  become  jarring  and  discordant;  hence 
fretfulness,  discontent,  and  habitual  irritability  steal  over 
the  sincere  Christian. 

But  to  the  Christian  that  really  believes  in  the  agency 
of  God  in  the  smallest  events  of  life,  that  confides  in  his 
love,  and  makes  his  sympathy  his  refuge,  the  thousand 


200  EARTHLY   CARE   A   HEAVENLY   DISCIPLINE 

minute  cares  and  perplexities  of  life  become  each  one  a 
fine  affiliating  bond  between  the  soul  and  its  God.  God 
is  known,  not  by  abstract  definition,  and  by  high-raised 
conceptions  of  the  soul's  aspiring  hours,  but  known  as 
a  man  knoweth  his  friend;  he  is  known  by  the  hourly 
wants  he  supplies;  known  by  every  care  with  which  he 
momentarily  sympathizes,  every  apprehension  which  he 
relieves,  every  temptation  which  he  enables  us  to  sur- 
mount. We  learn  to  know  God  as  the  infant  child  learns 
to  know  its  mother  and  its  father,  by  all  the  helplessness 
and  all  the  dependence  which  are  incident  to  this  com- 
mencement of  our  moral  existence;  and  as  we  go  on  thus 
year  by  year,  and  find  in  every  changing  situation,  in  every 
reverse,  in  every  trouble,  from  the  lightest  sorrow  to  those 
which  wring  our  soul  from  its  depths,  that  he  is  equally 
present,  and  that  his  gracious  aid  is  equally  adequate,  our 
faith  seems  gradually  almost  to  change  to  sight;  and  God's 
existence,  his  love  and  care,  seem  to  us  more  real  than  any 
other  source  of  reliance,  and  multiplied  cares  and  trials  are 
only  new  avenues  of  acquaintance  between  us  and  heaven. 

Suppose,  in  some  bright  vision  unfolding  to  our  view, 
in  tranquil  evening  or  solemn  midnight,  the  glorified  form 
of  some  departed  friend  should  appear  to  us  with  the 
announcement,  "This  year  is  to  be  to  you  one  of  especial 
probation  and  discipline,  with  reference  to  perfecting  you 
for  a  heavenly  state.  Weigh  well  and  consider  every  inci- 
dent of  your  daily  life,  for  not  one  shall  fall  out  by  acci- 
dent, but  each  one  is  to  be  a  finished  and  indispensable 
link  in  a  bright  chain  that  is  to  draw  you  upward  to  the 
skies ! " 

With  what  new  eyes  should  we  now  look  on  our  daily 
lot !  and  if  we  found  in  it  not  a  single  change,  —  the  same 
old  cares,  the  same  perplexities,  the  same  uninteresting 
drudgeries  still,  —  with  what  new  meaning  would  every 
incident  be  invested!  and  with  what  other  and  sublimer 


EARTHLY   CARE   A   HEAVENLY  DISCIPLINE          201 

spirit  could  we  meet  them?  Yet,  if  announced  by  one 
rising  from  the  dead  with  the  visible  glory  of  a  spiritual 
world,  this  truth  could  be  asserted  no  more  clearly  and 
distinctly  than  Jesus  Christ  has  stated  it  already.  Not 
a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground  without  our  Father.  Not 
one  of  them  is  forgotten  by  him;  and  we  are  of  more 
value  than  many  sparrows;  yea,  even  the  hairs  of  our 
head  are  all  numbered.  Not  till  belief  in  these  declara- 
tions, in  their  most  literal  sense,  becomes  the  calm  and 
settled  habit  of  the  soul,  is  life  ever  redeemed  from  drudg- 
ery and  dreary  emptiness,  and  made  full  of  interest,  mean- 
ing, and  divine  significance.  Not  till  then  do  its  grovel- 
ing wants,  its  wearing  cares,  its  stinging  vexations,  become 
to  us  ministering  spirits,  each  one,  by  a  silent  but  certain 
agency,  fitting  us  for  a  higher  and  perfect  sphere. 


THE  MINISTRATION   OF   OUR  DEPARTED 
FRIENDS 

A  NEW  YEAR'S  REVERIE 

"It  is  a  beautiful  belief, 

That  ever  round  our  head 
Are  hovering  on  viewless  wings 
The  spirits  of  the  dead." 

WHILE  every  year  is  taking  one  and  another  from  the 
ranks  of  life  and  usefulness,  or  the  charmed  circle  of 
friendship  and  love,  it  is  soothing  to  remember  that  the 
spiritual  world  is  gaining  in  riches  through  the  poverty  of 
this. 

In  early  life,  with  our  friends  all  around  us,  —  hearing 
their  voices,  cheered  by  their  smiles,  —  death  and  the  spir- 
itual world  are  to  us  remote,  misty,  and  half  fabulous; 
but  as  we  advance  in  our  journey,  and  voice  after  voice  is 
hushed,  and  form  after  form  vanishes  from  our  side,  and 
our  shadow  falls  almost  solitary  on  the  hillside  of  life,  the 
soul;  by  a  necessity  of  its  being,  tends  to  the  unseen  and 
spiritual,  and  pursues  in  another  life  those  it  seeks  in  vain 
in  this. 

For  with  every  friend  that  dies,  dies  also  some  especial 
form  of  social  enjoyment,  whose  being  depended  on  the 
peculiar  character  of  that  friend;  till,  late  in  the  afternoon 
of  life,  the  pilgrim  seems  to  himself  to  have  passed  over 
to  the  unseen  world  in  successive  portions  half  his  own 
spirit;  and  poor  indeed  is  he  who  has  not  familiarized 
himself  with  that  unknown,  whither,  despite  himself,  his 
soul  is  earnestly  tending. 


MINISTRATION   OF   OUR   DEPARTED   FRIENDS         203 

One  of  the  deepest  and  most  imperative  cravings  of  the 
human  heart,  as  it  follows  its  beloved  ones  beyond  the 
veil,  is  for  some  assurance  that  they  still  love  and  care  for 
us.  Could  we  firmly  believe  this,  bereavement  would  lose 
half  its  bitterness.  As  a  German  writer  beautifully  ex- 
presses it,  "Our  friend  is  not  wholly  gone  from  us;  we 
see  across  the  river  of  death,  in  the  blue  distance,  the 
smoke  of  his  cottage;"  hence  the  heart,  always  creating 
what  it  desires,  has  ever  made  the  guardianship  and  min- 
istration of  departed  spirits  a  favorite  theme  of  poetic  fic- 
tion. 

But  is  it,  then,  fiction?  Does  revelation,  which  gives 
so  many  hopes  which  nature  had  not,  give  none  here  1  Is 
there  no  sober  certainty  to  correspond  to  the  inborn  and 
passionate  craving  of  the  soul?  Do  departed  spirits  in 
verity  retain  any  knowledge  of  what  transpires  in  this 
world,  and  take  any  part  in  its  scenes?  All  that  revela- 
tion says  of  a  spiritual  state  is  more  intimation  than  asser- 
tion; it  has  no  distinct  treatise,  and  teaches  nothing  appar- 
ently of  set  purpose;  but  gives  vague,  glorious  images, 
while  now  and  then  some  accidental  ray  of  intelligence 
looks  out,  — 

"like  eyes  of  cherubs  shining 
From  out  the  veil  that  hid  the  ark." 

But  out  of  all  the  different  hints  and  assertions  of  the 
Bible  we  think  a  better  inferential  argument  might  be 
constructed  to  prove  the  ministration  of  departed  spirits 
than  for  many  a  doctrine  which  has  passed  in  its  day  for 
the  height  of  orthodoxy. 

First,  then,  the  Bible  distinctly  says  that  there  is  a 
class  of  invisible  spirits  who  minister  to  the  children  of 
men:  "Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  to  those  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?  "  It  is 
said  of  little  children,  that  "  their  angels  do  always  behold 
the  face  of  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  This  last 


204  MINISTRATION   OF   OUR   DEPARTED   FRIENDS 

passage,  from  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  taken  in  connection 
with  the  well-known  tradition  of  his  time,  fully  recognizes 
the  idea  of  individual  guardian  spirits;  for  God's  govern- 
ment over  mind  is,  it  seems,  throughout,  one  of  intermedi- 
ate agencies,  and  these  not  chosen  at  random,  but  with  the 
nicest  reference  to  their  adaptation  to  the  purpose  intended. 
Not  even  the  All-seeing,  All-knowing  One  was  deemed 
perfectly  adapted  to  become  a  human  Saviour  without  a 
human  experience.  Knowledge  intuitive,  gained  from 
above,  of  human  wants  and  woes  was  not  enough  —  to  it 
must  be  added  the  home-born  certainty  of  consciousness 
and  memory;  the  Head  of  all  mediation  must  become 
human.  Is  it  likely,  then,  that,  in  selecting  subordinate 
agencies,  this  so  necessary  a  requisite  of  a  human  life  and 
experience  is  overlooked?  While  around  the  throne  of 
God  stand  spirits,  now  sainted  and  glorified,  yet  thrillingly 
conscious  of  a  past  experience  of  sin  and  sorrow,  and 
trembling  in  sympathy  with  temptations  and  struggles  like 
their  own,  is  it  likely  that  he  would  pass  by  these  souls, 
thus  burning  for  the  work,  and  commit  it  to  those  bright 
abstract  beings  whose  knowledge  and  experience  are  com- 
paratively so  distant  and  so  cold  1 

It  is  strongly  in  confirmation  of  this  idea,  that  in  the 
transfiguration  scene  —  which  seems  to  have  been  intended 
purposely  to  give  the  disciples  a  glimpse  of  the  glorified 
state  of  their  Master  —  we  find  him  attended  by  two  spirits 
of  earth,  Moses  and  Elias,  "  which  appeared  with  him  in 
glory,  and  spake  of  his  death  which  he  should  accomplish 
at  Jerusalem."  It  appears  that  these  so  long  departed 
ones  were  still  mingling  in  deep  sympathy  with  the  tide 
of  human  affairs  —  not  only  aware  of  the  present,  but  also 
informed  as  to  the  future.  In.  coincidence  with  this  idea 
are  all  those  passages  which  speak  of  the  redeemed  of  earth 
as  being  closely  and  indissolubly  identified  with  Christ, 
members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh  and  his  bones.  It  is 


MINISTRATION   OF   OUR   DEPARTED   FRIENDS         205 

not  to  be  supposed  that  those  united  to  Jesus  above  all 
others  by  so  vivid  a  sympathy  and  community  of  interests 
are  left  out  as  instruments  in  that  great  work  of  human 
regeneration  which  so  engrosses  him;  and  when  we  hear 
Christians  spoken  of  as  kings  and  priests  unto  God,  as 
those  who  shall  judge  angels,  we  see  it  more  than  intimated 
that  they  are  to  be  the  partners  and  actors  in  that  great 
work  of  spiritual  regeneration  of  \vhich  Jesus*  is  the  head. 

What  then  ?  May  we  look  among  the  band  of  minister- 
ing spirits  for  our  own  departed  ones?  Whom  would 
God  be  more  likely  to  send  us?  Have  we  in  heaven  a 
friend  who  knew  us  to  the  heart's  core?  a  friend  to  whom 
we  have  unfolded  our  soul  in  its  most  secret  recesses  ?  to 
whom  we  have  confessed  our  weaknesses  and  deplored  our 
griefs  ?  If  we  are  to  have  a  ministering  spirit,  who  better 
adapted?  Have  we  not  memories  which  correspond  to 
such  a  belief?  When  our  soul  has  been  cast  down,  has 
never  an  invisible  voice  whispered,  "  There  is  lifting  up  "  ? 
Have  not  gales  and  breezes  of  sweet  and  healing  thought 
been  wafted  over  us,  as  if  an  angel  had  shaken  from  his 
wings  the  odors  of  paradise  ?  Many  a  one,  we  are  confi- 
dent, can  remember  such  things  —  and  whence  come  they  ? 
Why  do  the  children  of  the  pious  mother,  whose  grave  has 
grown  green  and  smooth  with  years,  seem  often  to  walk 
through  perils  and  dangers  fearful  and  imminent  as  the 
crossing  Mohammed's  fiery  gulf  on  the  edge  of  a  drawn 
sword,  yet  walk  unhurt  ?  Ah !  could  we  see  that  attend- 
ant form,  that  face  where  the  angel  conceals  not  the  mother, 
our  question  would  be  answered. 

It  may  be  possible  that  a  friend  is  sometimes  taken 
because  the  divine  One  sees  that  his  ministry  can  act  more 
powerfully  from  the  unseen  world  than  amid  the  infirmities 
of  mortal  intercourse.  Here  the  soul,  distracted  and 
hemmed  in  by  human  events  and  by  bodily  infirmities, 
often  scarce  knows  itself,  and  makes  no  impression  on 


206  MINISTRATION   OF   OUR   DEPARTED   FRIENDS 

others  correspondent  to  its  desires.  The  mother  would 
fain  electrify  the  heart  of  her  child;  she  yearns  and  burns 
in  vain  to  make  her  soul  effective  on  its  soul,  and  to 
inspire  it  with  a  spiritual  and  holy  life ;  but  all  her  own 
weaknesses,  faults,  and  mortal  cares  crarnp  and  confine  her, 
till  death  breaks  all  fetters;  and  then,  first  truly  alive, 
risen,  purified,  and  at  rest,  she  may  do  calmly,  sweetly, 
and  certainly,  what,  amid  the  tempests  and  tossings  of  life, 
she  labored  for  painfully  and  fitfully.  So,  also,  to  gener- 
ous souls,  who  burn  for  the  good  of  man,  who  deplore  the 
shortness  of  life,  and  the  little  that  is  permitted  to  any 
individual  agency  on  earth,  does  this  belief  open  a  heavenly 
field.  Think  not,  father  or  brother,  long  laboring  for 
man,  till  thy  sun  stands  on  the  western  mountains,  — 
think  not  that  thy  day  in  this  world  is  over.  Perhaps, 
like  Jesus,  thou  hast  lived  a  human  life,  and  gained  a 
human  experience,  to  become,  under  and  like  him,  a 
saviour  of  thousands;  thou  hast  been  through  the  prepara- 
tion, but  thy  real  work  of  good,  thy  full  power  of  doing, 
is  yet  to  begin. 

But  again:  there  are  some  spirits  (and  those  of  earth's 
choicest)  to  whom,  so  far  as  enjoyment  to  themselves  or 
others  is  concerned,  this  life  seems  to  have  been  a  total 
failure.  A  hard  hand  from  the  first,  and  all  the  way 
through  life,  seems  to  have  been  laid  upon  them;  they 
seem  to  live  only  to  be  chastened  and  crushed,  and  we  lay 
them  in  the  grave  at  last  in  mournful  silence.  To  such, 
what  a  vision  is  opened  by  this  belief!  This  hard  disci- 
pline has  been  the  school  and  task-work  by  which  their 
soul  has  been  fitted  for  their  invisible  labors  in  a  future 
life;  and  when  they  pass  the  gates  of  the  grave,  their 
course  of  benevolent  acting  first  begins,  and  they  find 
themselves  delighted  possessors  of  what  through  many 
years  they  have  sighed  for  —  the  power  of  doing  good. 
The  year  just  past,  like  all  other  years,  has  taken  from 


MINISTRATION   OF    OUR   DEPARTED   FRIENDS         207 

a  thousand  circles  the  sainted,  the  just,  and  the  beloved; 
there  are  spots  in  a  thousand  graveyards  which  have 
become  this  year  dearer  than  all  the  living  world;  but  in 
the  loneliness  of  sorrow  how  cheering  to  think  that  our 
lost  ones  are  not  wholly  gone  from  us!  They  still  may 
move  about  in  our  homes,  shedding  around  an  atmosphere 
of  purity  and  peace,  promptings  of  good,  and  reproofs  of 
evil.  We  are  compassed  about  by  a  cloud  of  witnesses, 
whose  hearts  throb  in  sympathy  with  every  effort  and  strug- 
gle, and  who  thrill  with  joy  at  every  success.  How  should 
this  thought  check  and  rebuke  every  worldly  feeling  and 
unworthy  purpose,  and  enshrine  us,  in  the  midst  of  a  for- 
getful and  unspiritual  world,  with  an  atmosphere  of  hea- 
venly peace.  They  have  overcome  —  have  risen  —  are 
crowned,  glorified,  but  still  they  remain  to  us,  our  assist- 
ants, our  comforters,  and  in  ever}'  hour  of  darkness  their 
voice  speaks  to  us:  "So  we  grieved,  so  we  struggled,  so 
we  fainted,  so  we  doubted;  but  we  have  overcome,  we 
have  obtained,  we  have  seen,  we  have  found  —  and  in  our 
victory  behold  the  certainty  of  thy  own." 


RELIGIOUS   SKETCHES 


CHILDEEN 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them." 

ONE  cold  market  morning  I  looked  into  a  milliner's 
shop,  and  there  I  saw  a  hale,  hearty,  well-browned  young 
fellow  from  the  country,  with  his  long  cart  whip,  and  lion- 
shag  coat,  holding  up  some  little  matter,  and  turning  it 
about  on  his  great  fist.  And  what  do  you  suppose  it  was? 
A  baby's  bonnet !  A  little,  soft,  blue  satin  hood,  with  a 
swan's-down  border,  white  as  the  new-fallen  snow,  with 
a  frill  of  rich  blonde  around  the  edge. 

By  his  side  stood  a  very  pretty  woman,  holding,  with 
no  small  pride,  the  baby  —  for  evidently  it  was  the  baby. 
Any  one  could  read  that  fact  in  every  glance,  as  they 
looked  at  each  other,  and  then  at  the  large,  unconscious 
eyes,  and  fat,  dimpled  cheeks  of  the  little  one. 

It  was  evident  that  neither  of  them  had  ever  seen  a 
baby  like  that  before. 

"But  really,  Mary,"  said  the  young  man,  "isn't  three 
dollars  very  high  ?  " 

Mary  very  prudently  said  nothing,  but  taking  the  little 
bonnet,  tied  it  on  the  little  head,  and  held  up  the  baby. 
The  man  looked,  and  without  another  word  down  went 
the  three  dollars  —  all  the  avails  of  last  week's  butter; 
and  as  they  walked  out  of  the  shop,  it  is  hard  to  say 
which  looked  the  more  delighted  with  the  bargain. 


CHILDREN  209 

"  Ah,"  thought  I,  "a  little  child  shall  lead  them." 

Another  day,  as  I  was  passing  a  carriage  factory  along 
one  of  our  principal  back  streets,  I  saw  a  young  mechanic 
at  work  on  a  wheel.  The  rough  body  of  a  carriage  stood 
beside  him,  and  there,  wrapped  up  snugly,  all  hooded  and 
cloaked,  sat  a  little  dark-eyed  girl,  about  a  year  old,  playing 
with  a  great,  shaggy  dog.  As  I  stopped,  the  man  looked 
up  from  his  work,  and  turned  admiringly  towards  his  little 
companion,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  See  what  I  have  got  here !  " 

"Yes,"  thought  I;  "and  if  the  little  lady  ever  gets  a 
glance  from  admiring  swains  as  sincere  as  that,  she  will  be 
lucky." 

Ah,  these  children,  little  witches,  pretty  even  in  all 
their  faults  and  absurdities.  See,  for  example,  yonder 
little  fellow  in  a  naughty  fit.  He  has  shaken  his  long 
curls  over  his  deep  blue  eyes;  the  fair  brow  is  bent  in  a 
frown,  the  rose  leaf  lip  is  pursed  up  in  infinite  defiance, 
and  the  white  shoulder  thrust  angrily  forward.  Can  any 
but  a  child  look  so  pretty,  even  in  its  naughtiness  1 

Then  comes  the  instant  change;  flashing  smiles  and 
tears  as  the  good  comes  back  all  in  a  rush,  and  you  are 
overwhelmed  with  protestations,  promises,  and  kisses! 
They  are  irresistible,  too,  these  little  ones.  They  pull 
away  the  scholar's  pen,  tumble  about  his  paper,  make 
somersets  over  his  books;  and  what  can  he  do?  They 
tear  up  newspapers,  litter  the  carpets,  break,  pull,  and 
upset,  and  then  jabber  unheard-of  English  in  self-defense; 
and  what  can  you  do  for  yourself? 

"If  I  had  a  child,"  says  the  precise  man,  "you  should 
see." 

He  does  have  a  child,  and  his  child  tears  up  his  papers, 
tumbles  over  his  things,  and  pulls  his  nose  like  all  other 
children ;  and  what  has  the  precise  man  to  say  for  himself  ? 
Nothing;  he  is  like  everybody  else;  "a  little  child  shall 
lead  him." 


210  CHILDREN 

The  hardened  heart  of  the  worldly  man  is  unlocked  by 
the  guileless  tones  and  simple  caresses  of  his  son;  but  he 
repays  it  in  time,  by  imparting  to  his  boy  all  the  crooked 
tricks  and  callous  maxims  which  have  undone  himself. 

Go  to  the  jail,  to  the  penitentiary,  and  find  there  the 
wretch  most  sullen,  brutal,  and  hardened.  Then  look  at 
your  infant  son.  Such  as  he  is  to  you,  such  to  some 
mother  was  this  man.  That  hard  hand  was  soft  and  deli- 
cate; that  rough  voice  was  tender  and  lisping;  fond  eyes 
followed  him  as  he  played,  and  he  was  rocked  and  cradled 
as  something  holy.  There  was  a  time  when  his  heart, 
soft  and  unworn,  might  have  opened  to  questionings  of 
God  and  Jesus,  and  been  sealed  with  the  seal  of  Heaven. 
But  harsh  hands  seized  it;  fierce  goblin  lineaments  were 
impressed  upon  it;  and  all  is  over  with  him  forever! 

So  of  the  tender,  weeping  child  is  made  the  callous, 
heartless  man;  of  the  all- believing  child,  the  sneering 
skeptic;  of  the  beautiful  and  modest,  the  shameless  and 
abandoned;  and  this  is  what  the  world  does  for  the  little 
one. 

There  was  a  time  when  the  divine  One  stood  on  earth, 
and  little  children  sought  to  draw  near  to  him.  But  harsh 
human  beings  stood  between  him  and  them,  forbidding 
their  approach.  Ah,  has  it  not  always  been  so  ?  Do  not 
even  we,  with  our  hard  and  unsubdued  feelings,  our 
worldly  and  unspiritual  habits  and  maxims,  stand  like  a 
dark  screen  between  our  little  child  and  its  Saviour,  and 
keep  even  from  the  choice  bud  of  our  hearts  the  sweet 
radiance  which  might  unfold  it  for  paradise?  "Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,"  is 
still  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God;  but  the  cold  world  still 
closes  around  and  forbids.  When,  of  old,  disciples  would 
question  their  Lord  of  the  higher  mysteries  of  his  king- 
dom, he  took  a  little  child  and  set  him  in  the  midst,  as 
a  sign  of  him  who  should  be  greatest  in  heaven.  That 


CHILDREN  211 

gentle  teacher  remains  still  to  us.      By  every  hearth  and 
fireside  Jesus  still  sets  the  little  child  in  the  midst  of  us. 

Wouldst  thou  know,  0  parent,  what  is  that  faith  which 
unlocks  heaven?  Go  not  to  wrangling  polemics,  or  creeds 
and  forms  of  theology,  but  draw  to  thy  hosom  thy  little 
one,  and  read  in  that  clear,  trusting  eye  the  lesson  of 
eternal  life.  Be  only  to  thy  God  as  thy  child  is  to  thee, 
and  all  is  done.  Blessed  shalt  thou  be,  indeed,  "when 
a  little  child  shall  lead  thee." 


THE  OLD   OAK   OF  ANDOVEK 

A    REVERIE 

SILENTLY,  with  dreamy  languor,  the  fleecy  snow  is  fall- 
ing. Through  the  windows,  flowery  with  blossoming  gera- 
nium and  heliotrope,  through  the  downward  sweep  of  crim- 
son and  muslin  curtain,  one  watches  it  as  the  wind  whirls 
and  sways  it  in  swift  eddies. 

Eight  opposite  our  house,  on  our  Mount  Clear,  is  an 
old  oak,  the  apostle  of  the  primeval  forest.  Once,  when 
this  place  was  all  wildwood,  the  man  who  was  seeking  a 
spot  for  the  location  of  the  buildings  of  Phillips  Academy 
climbed  this  oak,  using  it  as  a  sort  of  green  watch-tower, 
from  whence  he  might  gain  a  view  of  the  surrounding 
country.  Age  and  time,  since  then,  have  dealt  hardly 
with  the  stanch  old  fellow.  His  limbs  have  been  here  and 
there  shattered;  his  back  begins  to  look  mossy  and  dilapi- 
dated; but,  after  all,  there  is  a  piquant,  decided  air  about 
him,  that  speaks  the  old  age  of  a  tree  of  distinction,  a 
kingly  oak.  To-day  I  see  him  standing,  dimly  revealed 
through  the  mist  of  falling  snows;  to-morrow's  sun  will 
show  the  outline  of  his  gnarled  limbs  —  all  rose  color  with 
their  soft  snow  burden;  and  again  a  few  months,  and 
spring  will  breathe  on  him,  and  he  will  draw  a  long 
breath,  and  break  out  once  more,  for  the  three  hundredth 
time,  perhaps,  into  a  vernal  crown  of  leaves.  I  sometimes 
think  that  leaves  are  the  thoughts  of  trees,  and  that  if  we 
only  knew  it,  we  should  find  their  life's  experience  re- 
corded in  them.  Our  oak!  what  a  crop  of  meditations 
and  remembrances  must  he  have  thrown  forth,  leafing  out 


THE   OLD   OAK  OF  ANDOVER  213 

century  after  century.  Awhile  he  spake  and  thought  only 
of  red  deer  and  Indians;  of  the  trillium  that  opened  its 
white  triangle  in  his  shade;  of  the  scented  arbutus,  fair 
as  the  pink  ocean  shell,  weaving  her  fragrant  mats  in  the 
moss  at  his  feet;  of  feathery  ferns,  casting  their  silent 
shadows  on  the  checkerberry  leaves,  and  all  those  sweet, 
wild,  nameless,  half-mossy  things,  that  live  in  the  gloom 
of  forests,  and  are  only  desecrated  when  brought  to  scien- 
tific light,  laid  out  and  stretched  on  a  botanic  bier.  Sweet 
old  forest  days!  —  when  blue  jay,  and  yellowhammer,  and 
bobolink  made  his  leaves  merry,  and  summer  was  a  long 
opera  of  such  music  as  Mozart  dimly  dreamed.  But  then 
came  human  kind  bustling  beneath;  wondering,  fussing, 
exploring,  measuring,  treading  down  flowers,  cutting  down 
trees,  scaring  bobolinks  —  and  Andover,  as  men  say,  began 
to  be  settled. 

Stanch  men  were  they  —  these  Puritan  fathers  of  An- 
dover. The  old  oak  must  have  felt  them  something  akin 
to  himself.  Such  strong,  wrestling  limbs  had  they,  so 
gnarled  and  knotted  were  they,  yet  so  outbursting  with 
a  green  and  vernal  crown,  yearly  springing,  of  noble  and 
generous  thoughts,  rustling  with  leaves  which  shall  be  for 
the  healing  of  nations. 

These  men  were  content  with  the  hard,  dry  crust  for 
themselves,  that  they  might  sow  seeds  of  abundant  food 
for  us,  their  children;  men  out  of  whose  hardness  in  en- 
during we  gain  leisure  to  be  soft  and  graceful,  through 
whose  poverty  we  have  become  rich.  Like  Moses,  they 
had  for  their  portion  only  the  pain  and  weariness  of  the 
wilderness,  leaving  to  us  the  fruition  of  the  promised  land. 
Let  us  cherish  for  their  sake  the  old  oak,  beautiful  in  its  age 
as  the  broken  statue  of  some  antique  wrestler,  brown  with 
time,  yet  glorious  in  its  suggestion  of  past  achievement. 

I  think  all  this  the  more  that  I  have  recently  come 
across  the  following  passage  in  one  of  our  religious  papers. 


214  THE    OLD   OAK   OF   AXDOVER 

The  writer  expresses  a  kind  of  sentiment  which  one  meets 
very  often  upon  this  subject,  and  leads  one  to  wonder 
what  glamour  could  have  fallen  on  the  minds  of  any  of  the 
descendants  of  the  Puritans,  that  they  should  cast  nettles 
on  those  honored  graves  where  they  should  be  proud  to 
cast  their  laurels. 

"It  is  hard,"  he  says,  "for  a  lover  of  the  beautiful  — 
not  a  mere  lover,  but  a  believer  in  its  divinity  also  —  to 
forgive  the  Puritans,  or  to  think  charitably  of  them.  It 
is  hard  for  him  to  keep  Forefathers'  Day,  or  to  subscribe 
to  the  Plymouth  Monument;  hard  to  look  fairly  at  what 
they  did,  with  the  memory  of  what  they  destroyed  rising 
up  to  choke  thankfulness;  for  they  were  as  one-sided  and 
narrow-minded  a  set  of  men  as  ever  lived,  and  saw  one  of 
Truth's  faces  only  —  the  hard,  stern,  practical  face,  with- 
out loveliness,  without  beauty,  and  only  half  dear  to  God. 
The  Puritan  flew  in  the  face  of  facts,  not  because  he  saw 
them  and  disliked  them,  but  because  he  did  not  see  them. 
He  saw  foolishness,  lying,  stealing,  worldliness,  —  the  very 
mammon  of  unrighteousness  rioting  in  the  world  and  bear- 
ing sway,  —  and  he  ran  full  tilt  against  the  monster,  hating 
it  with  a  very  mortal  and  mundane  hatred,  and  anxious  to 
see  it  bite  the  dust  that  his  own  horn  might  be  exalted. 
It  was  in  truth  only  another  horn  of  the  old  dilemma, 
tossing  and  goring  grace  and  beauty,  and  all  the  loveliness 
of  life,  as  if  they  were  the  enemies  instead  of  the  sure 
friends  of  God  and  man." 

Now,  to  those  who  say  this  we  must  ask  the  question 
with  which  Socrates  of  old  pursued  the  sophist:  What  is 
beauty?  If  beauty  be  only  physical,  if  it  appeal  only  to 
the  senses,  if  it  be  only  an  enchantment  of  graceful  forms, 
sweet  sounds,  then  indeed  there  might  be  something  of 
truth,  in  this  sweeping  declaration  that  the  Puritan  spirit 
is  the  enemy  of  beauty. 

The  very  root  and  foundation  of  all  artistic  inquiry  lies 


THE   OLD   OAK   OF   ANDOVER  215 

here.  What  is  beauty  1  And  to  this  question  God  forbid 
that  we  Christians  should  give  a  narrower  answer  than 
Plato  gave  in  the  old  times  before  Christ  arose,  for  he 
directs  the  aspirant  who  would  discover  the  beautiful  to 
" consider  of  greater  value  the  beauty  existing  in  the  soul, 
than  that  existing  in  the  body. "  More  gracefully  he  teaches 
the  same  doctrine  when  he  tells  us  that  "  there  are  two  kinds 
of  Venus  (beauty) ;  the  one,  the  elder,  who  had  no  mother, 
and  was  the  daughter  of  Uranus  (heaven),  whom  we  name 
the  celestial;  the  other,  younger,  daughter  of  Jupiter  and 
Dione,  whom  we  call  the  vulgar." 

Now,  if  disinterestedness,  faith,  patience,  piety,  have 
a  beauty  celestial  and  divine,  then  were  our  fathers  wor- 
shipers of  the  beautiful.  If  high-inindedness  and  spotless 
honor  are  beautiful  things,  they  had  those.  What  work 
of  art  can  compare  with  a  lofty  and  heroic  life  ?  Is  it  not 
better  to  be  a  Moses  than  to  be  a  Michael  Angelo  making 
statues  of  Moses  1  Is  not  the  life  of  Paul  a  sublimer  work 
of  art  than  Raphael's  cartoons'?  Are  not  the  patience,  the 
faith,  the  undying  love  of  Mary  by  the  cross,  more  beauti- 
ful than  all  the  Madonna  paintings  in  the  world.  If, 
then,  we  would  speak  truly  of  our  fathers,  we  should  say 
that,  having  their  minds  fixed  on  that  celestial  beauty  of 
which  Plato  speaks,  they  held  in  slight  esteem  that  more 
common  and  earthly. 

Should  we  continue  the  parable  in  Plato's  manner,  we 
might  say  that  the  earthly  and  visible  Venus,  the  outward 
grace  of  art  and  nature,  was  ordained  of  God  as  a  priestess, 
through  whom  men  were  to  gain  access  to  the  divine,  in- 
visible One ;  but  that  men,  in  their  blindness,  ever  worship 
the  priestess  instead  of  the  divinity. 

Therefore  it  is  that  great  reformers  so  often  must  break 
the  shrines  and  temples  of  the  physical  and  earthly  beauty, 
when  they  seek  to  draw  men  upward  to  that  which  is  high 
and  divine. 


216  THE   OLD  OAK   OF  ANDOVER 

Christ  says  of  John  the  Baptist,  "What  went  ye  out 
for  to  see  1  A  man  clothed  in  soft  raiment ?  Behold  they 
which  are  clothed  in  soft  raiment  are  in  kings'  palaces." 
So  was  it  when  our  fathers  came  here.  There  were  enough 
wearing  soft  raiment  and  dwelling  in  kings'  palaces.  Life 
in  papal  Rome  and  prelatic  England  was  weighed  down 
with  blossoming  luxury.  There  were  abundance  of  people 
to  think  of  pictures,  and  statues,  and  gems,  and  cameos, 
vases  and  marbles,  and  all  manner  of  deliciousness.  The 
world  was  all  drunk  with  the  enchantments  of  the  lower 
Venus,  and  it  was  needful  that  these  men  should  come, 
Baptist-like  in  the  wilderness,  in  raiment  of  camel's  hair. 
We  need  such  men  now.  Art,  they  tell  us,  is  waking  in 
America;  a  love  of  the  beautiful  is  beginning  to  unfold  its 
wings;  but  what  kind  of  art,  and  what  kind  of  beauty? 
Are  we  to  fill  our  houses  with  pictures  and  gems,  and  to 
see  that  even  our  drinking  cup  and  vase  are  wrought  in 
graceful  pattern,  and  to  lose  our  reverence  for  self-denial, 
honor,  and  faith  ? 

Is  our  Venus  to  be  the  frail,  ensnaring  Aphrodite,  or 
the  starry,  divine  Urania? 


THE  ELDEK'S  FEAST 

A    TRADITION    OF    LAODICEA 

AT  a  certain  time  in  the  earlier  ages  there  lived  in  the 
city  of  Laodicea  a  Christian  elder  of  some  repute,  named 
Onesiphorus.  The  world  had  smiled  on  him,  and  though 
a  Christian,  he  was  rich  and  full  of  honors.  All  men, 
even  the  heathen,  spoke  well  of  him,  for  he  was  a  man 
courteous  of  speech  and  mild  of  manner. 

His  wife,  a  fair  Ionian  lady  but  half  reclaimed  from 
idolatry,  though  baptized  and  accredited  as  a  member  of 
the  Christian  Church,  still  lingered  lovingly  on  the  confines 
of  old  heathenism,  and  if  she  did  not  believe,  still  cher- 
ished with  pleasure  the  poetic  legends  of  Apollo  and 
Venus,  of  Jove  and  Diana. 

A  large  and  fair  family  of  sons  and  daughters  had  risen 
around  these  parents;  but  their  education  had  been  much 
after  the  rudiments  of  this  world,  and  not  after  Christ. 
Though,  according  to  the  customs  of  the  church,  they 
were  brought  to  the  font  of  baptism,  and  sealed  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  the  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  and 
although  daily,  instead  of  libations  to  the  Penates,  or 
flower  offerings  to  Diana  and  Juno,  the  name  of  Jesus  was 
invoked,  yet  the  spirit  of  Jesus  was  wanting.  The  chosen 
associates  of  all  these  children,  as  they  grew  older,  were 
among  the  heathen;  and  daily  they  urged  their  parents,  by 
their  entreaties,  to  conform,  in  one  thing  after  another,  to 
heathen  usage.  "  Why  should  we  be  singular,  mother  ?  " 
said  the  dark-eyed  Myrrah,  as  she  bound  her  hair  and 
arranged  her  dress  after  the  fashion  of  the  girls  in  the 


218  THE  ELDER'S  FEAST 

temple  of  Venus.  "Why  may  we  not  wear  the  golden 
ornaments  and  images  which  have  been  consecrated  to 
heathen  goddesses?"  said  the  sprightly  Thalia;  "surely 
none  others  are  to  be  bought,  and  are  we  to  do  altogether 
without?"  "And  why  may  we  not  be  at  feasts  where 
libations  are  made  to  Apollo  or  Jupiter  ? "  said  the  sons ; 
"so  long  as  we  do  not  consent  to  it  or  believe  in  it,  will 
our  faith  be  shaken  thereby?"  "How  are  we  ever  to 
reclaim  the  heathen,  if  we  do  not  mingle  among  them  ? " 
said  another  son;  "did  not  our  Master  eat  with  publicans 
and  sinners  ? " 

It  was,  however,  to  be  remarked,  that  no  conversions 
of  the  heathen  to  Christianity  ever  took  place  through  the 
means  of  these  complying  sons  and  daughters,  or  any  of 
the  number  who  followed  their  example.  Instead  of  with- 
drawing any  from  the  confines  of  heathenism,  they  them- 
selves were  drawn  so  nearly  over,  that  in  certain  situations 
and  circumstances  they  would  undoubtedly  have  been 
ranked  among  them  by  any  but  a  most  scrutinizing  ob- 
server. If  any  in  the  city  of  Laodicea  were  ever  led  to 
unite  themselves  with  Jesus,  it  was  by  means  of  a  few 
who  observed  the  full  simplicity  of  the  ancient  faith,  and 
who,  though  honest,  tender,  and  courteous  in  all  their 
dealings  with  the  heathen,  still  went  not  a  step  with  them 
in  conformity  to  any  of  their  customs. 

In  time,  though  the  family  we  speak  of  never  broke 
off  from  the  Christian  Church,  yet  if  you  had  been  in  it, 
you  might  have  heard  much  warm  and  earnest  conversation 
about  things  that  took  place  at  the  baths,  or  in  feasts  to 
various  divinities;  but  if  any  one  spoke  of  Jesus,  there 
was  immediately  a  cold  silence,  a  decorous,  chilling,  re- 
spectful pause,  after  which  the  conversation,  with  a  bound, 
flew  back  into  the  old  channel  again. 

It  was  now  night;  and  the  house  of  Onesiphorus  the 


THE  ELDER'S  FEAST  219 

Elder  was  blazing  with  torches,  alive  with  music,  and  all 
the  hurry  and  stir  of  a  sumptuous  banquet.  All  the 
wealth  and  fashion  of  Laodicea  were  there,  Christian  and 
heathen;  and  all  that  the  classic  voluptuousness  of  Orien- 
tal Greece  could  give  to  shed  enchantment  over  the  scene 
was  there.  In  ancient  times  the  festivals  of  Christians  in 
Laodicea  had  been  regulated  in  the  spirit  of  the  command 
of  Jesus,  as  recorded  by  Luke,  whose  classical  Greek  had 
made  his  the  established  version  in  Asia  Minor.  "And 
thou,  when  thou  makest  a  feast,  call  not  thy  friends  and 
thy  kinsmen,  nor  thy  rich  neighbors,  lest  they  also  bid 
thee,  and  a  recompense  be  made  thee.  But  when  thou 
makest  a  feast,  call  the  poor,  and  the  maimed,  and  the 
lame,  and  the  blind,  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed;  for  they 
cannot  recompense  thee,  but  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at 
the  resurrection  of  the  just." 

That  very  day,  before  the  entertainment,  had  this  pas- 
sage been  quoted  in  the  ears  of  the  family  by  Cleon,  the 
youngest  son,  who,  different  from  all  his  family,  had  cher- 
ished in  his  bosom  the  simplicity  of  the  old  belief. 

"  How  ridiculous !  how  absurd !  "  had  been  the  reply  of 
the  more  thoughtless  members  of  the  family,  when  Cleon 
cited  the  above  passage  as  in  point  to  the  evening's  enter- 
tainment. The  dark-eyed  mother  looked  reproof  on  the 
levity  of  the  younger  children,  and  decorously  applauded 
the  passage,  which  she  said  had  no  application  to  the 
matter  in  hand. 

"But,  mother,  even  if  the  passage  be  not  literally  taken, 
it  must  mean  something.  What  did  the  Lord  Jesus  intend 
by  it?  If  we  Christians  may  make  entertainments  with 
all  the  parade  and  expense  of  our  heathen  neighbors,  and 
thus  spend  the  money  that  might  be  devoted  to  charity, 
what  does  this  passage  mean  ?  " 

"Your  father  gives  in  charity  as  handsomely  as  any 
Christian  in  Laodicea, "  said  his  mother  warmly. 


220  THE  ELDER'S  FEAST 

"Nay,  mother,  that  may  be;  but  I  bethink  me  now  of 
two  or  three  times  when  means  have  been  wanting  for  the 
relieving  of  the  poor,  and  the  ransoming  of  captives,  and 
the  support  of  apostles,  when  we  have  said  that  we  could 
give  no  more." 

"My  son,"  said  his  mother,  "you  do  not  understand 
the  ways  of  the  world." 

"Nay,  how  should  he,"  said  Thalia,  "shut  up  day  and 
night  with  that  old  papyrus  of  St.  Luke  and  Paul's  Epis- 
tles 1  One  may  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing. " 

"  But  does  not  the  holy  Paul  say,  '  Be  not  conformed  to 
this  world  '  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  the  elder;  "that  means  that  we  should 
be  baptized,  and  not  worship  in  the  heathen  temples." 

"My  dear  son,"  said  his  mother,  "you  intend  well, 
doubtless;  but  you  have  not  sufficient  knowledge  of  life  to 
estimate  our  relations  to  society.  Entertainments  of  this 
sort  are  absolutely  necessary  to  sustain  our  position  in  the 
world.  If  we  accept,  we  must  return  them." 

But  not  to  dwell  on  this  conversation,  let  us  suppose 
ourselves  in  the  rooms  now  glittering  with  lights,  and  gay 
with  every  costly  luxury  of  wealth  and  taste.  Here  were 
statues  to  Diana  and  Apollo,  and  to  the  household  Juno  — 
not  meant  for  worship  —  of  course  not  —  but  simply  to 
conform  to  the  general  usages  of  good  society;  and  so  far 
had  this  complaisance  been  carried,  that  the  shrine  of  a 
peerless  Venus  was  adorned  with  garlands  and  votive  offer- 
ings, and  an  exquisitely  wrought  silver  censer  diffused  its 
perfume  on  the  marble  altar  in  front.  This  complaisance 
on  the  part  of  some  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family 
drew  from  the  elder  a  gentle  remonstrance,  as  having  an 
unseemly  appearance  for  those  bearing  the  Christian  name; 
but  they  readily  answered,  "  Has  not  Paul  said,  *  We  know 
that  an  idol  is  nothing  '  ?  Where  is  the  harm  of  an  elegant 
statue,  considered  merely  as  a  consummate  work  of  art? 


THE  ELDER'S  FEAST  221 

As  for  the  flowers,  are  they  not  simply  the  most  appropri- 
ate ornament?  And  where  is  the  harm  of  burning  exqui- 
site perfume?  And  is  it  worse  to  burn  it  in  one  place 
than  another  1 " 

"Upon  my  sword,"  said  one  of  the  heathen  guests,  as 
he  wandered  through  the  gay  scene,  "how  liberal  and 
accommodating  these  Christians  are  becoming!  Except  in 
a  few  small  matters  in  the  temple,  they  seem  to  be  with 
us  entirely." 

"Ah,"  said  another,  "it  was  not  so  years  back.  No- 
thing was  heard  among  them,  then,  but  prayers,  and  alms, 
and  visits  to  the  poor  and  sick;  and  when  they  met  to- 
gether in  their  feasts,  there  was  so  much  of  their  talk  of 
Christ,  and  such  singing  of  hymns  and  prayer,  that  one  of 
us  found  himself  quite  out  of  place." 

"Yes,"  said  an  old  man  present,  "in  those  days  I  quite 
bethought  me  of  being  some  day  a  Christian;  but  look 
you,  they  are  grown  so  near  like  us  now,  it  is  scarce  worth 
one's  while  to  change.  A  little  matter  of  ceremony  in  the 
temple,  and  offering  incense  to  Jesus,  instead  of  Jupiter, 
when  all  else  is  the  same,  can  make  small  odds  in  a  man." 

But  now,  the  ancient  legend  goes  on  to  say,  that  in  the 
midst  of  that  gay  and  brilliant  evening,  a  stranger  of 
remarkable  appearance  and  manners  was  noticed  among  the 
throng.  None  knew  him,  or  whence  he  came.  He  min- 
gled not  in  the  mirth,  and  seemed  to  recognize  no  one 
present,  though  he  regarded  all  that  was  passing  with  a 
peculiar  air  of  still  and  earnest  attention ;  and  wherever  he 
moved,  his  calm,  penetrating  gaze  seemed  to  diffuse  a 
singular  uneasiness  about  him.  Now  his  eye  was  fixed 
with  a  quiet  scrutiny  on  the  idolatrous  statues,  with  their 
votive  adornments  —  now  it  followed  earnestly  the  young 
forms  that  were  wreathing  in  the  graceful  waves  of  the 
dance;  and  then  he  turned  toward  the  tables,  loaded  with 
every  luxury  and  sparkling  with  wines,  where  the  devotion 


222  THE  ELDER'S  FEAST 

to  Bacchus  became  more  than  poetic  fiction;  and  as  he 
gazed,  a  high,  indignant  sorrow  seemed  to  overshadow  the 
calmness  of  his  majestic  face.  When,  in  thoughtless  mer- 
riment, some  of  the  gay  company  sought  to  address  him, 
they  found  themselves  shrinking  involuntarily  from  the 
soft,  piercing  eye,  and  trembling  at  the  low,  sweet  tones 
in  which  he  replied.  What  he  spoke  was  brief;  but  there 
was  a  gravity  and  tender  wisdom  in  it  that  strangely  con- 
trasted with  the  frivolous  scene,  and  awakened  unwonted 
ideas  of  heavenly  purity  even  in  thoughtless  and  dissipated 
minds. 

The  only  one  of  the  company  who  seemed  to  seek  his 
society  was  the  youngest,  the  fair  little  child  Isa.  She 
seemed  as  strangely  attracted  towards  him  as  others  were 
repelled;  and  when,  unsolicited,  in  the  frank  confidence  of 
childhood  she  pressed  to  his  side,  and  placed  her  little 
hand  in  his,  the  look  of  radiant  compassion  and  tenderness 
which  beamed  down  from  those  eyes  was  indeed  glorious  to 
behold.  Yet  here  and  there,  as  he  glided  among  the 
crowd,  he  spoke  in  the  ear  of  some  Christian  words  which, 
though  soft  and  low,  seemed  to  have  a  mysterious  and 
startling  power;  for  one  after  another,  pensive,  abashed, 
and  confounded,  they  drew  aside  from  the  gay  scene,  and 
seemed  lost  in  thought.  That  stranger  —  who  was  he? 
Who?  The  inquiry  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 
one  and  another,  who  had  listened  to  his  low,  earnest 
tones,  looked  on  each  other  with  a  troubled  air.  Erelong 
he  had  glided  hither  and  thither  in  the  crowd;  he  had 
spoken  in  the  ear  of  every  Christian  —  and  suddenly  again 
he  was  gone,  and  they  saw  him  no  more.  Each  had  felt 
the  heart  thrill  within  —  each  spirit  had  vibrated  as  if  the 
finger  of  its  Creator  had  touched  it,  and  shrunk  conscious 
as  if  an  omniscient  eye  were  upon  it.  Each  heart  was 
stirred  from  its  depths.  Vain  sophistries,  worldly  maxims, 
making  the  false  look  true,  all  appeared  to  rise  and  clear 


THE  ELDER'S  FEAST  223 

away  like  a  mist;  and  at  once  each  one  seemed  to  see,  as 
God  sees,  the  true  state  of  the  inner  world,  the  true 
motive  and  reason  of  action,  and  in  the  instinctive  pause 
that  passed  through  the  company,  the  banquet  was  broken 
up  and  deserted. 

"And  what  if  their  God  were  present? "  said  one  of  the 
heathen  members  of  the  company,  next  day.  "Why  did 
they  all  look  so  blank1?  A  most  favorable  omen,  we 
should  call  it,  to  have  one's  patron  divinity  at  a  feast." 

"Besides,"  said  another,  "these  Christians  hold  that 
their  God  is  always  everywhere  present;  so,  at  most,  they 
have  but  had  their  eyes  opened  to  see  Him  who  is  always 
there!" 

What  is  practically  the  meaning  of  the  precept,  "Be  not 
conformed  to  the  world"?  In  its  every-day  results,  it 
presents  many  problems  difficult  of  solution.  There  are 
so  many  shades  and  blendings  of  situation  and  circum- 
stances, so  many  things,  innocent  and  graceful  in  them- 
selves, which,  like  flowers  and  incense  on  a  heathen  altar, 
become  unchristian  only  through  position  and  circum- 
stances, that  the  most  honest  and  well-intentioned  are 
often  perplexed. 

That  we  must  conform  in  some  things  is  conceded;  yet 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  New  Testament  shows  that  this 
conformity  must  have  its  limits  —  that  Christians  are  to  be 
transformed,  so  as  to  exhibit  to  the  world  a  higher  and 
more  complete  style  of  life,  and  thus  "prove  what  is  the 
good,  and  acceptable,  and  perfect  will  of  God." 

But  in  many  particulars  as  to  style  of  living  and  modes 
of  social  intercourse,  there  can  be  no  definite  rules  laid 
down,  and  no  Christian  can  venture  to  judge  another  by 
his  standard. 

One  Christian  condemns  dress  adornment,  and  the  whole 
application  of  taste  to  the  usages  of  life,  as  a  sinful  waste 


224  THE  ELDER'S  FEAST 

of  time  and  money.  Another,  perceiving  in  every  work 
of  God  a  love  and  appreciation  of  the  beautiful,  believes 
that  there  is  a  sphere  in  which  he  is  pleased  to  see  the 
same  trait  in  his  children,  if  the  indulgence  do  not  become 
excessive,  and  thus  interfere  with  higher  duties. 

One  condemns  all  time  and  expense  laid  out  in  social 
visiting  as  so  much  waste.  Another  remembers  that  Jesus, 
when  just  entering  on  the  most  vast  and  absorbing  work, 
turned  aside  to  attend  a  wedding  feast,  and  wrought  his 
first  miracle  to  enhance  its  social  enjoyment.  Again, 
there  are  others  who,  because  some  indulgence  of  taste  and 
some  exercise  for  the  social  powers  are  admissible,  go  all 
lengths  in  extravagance,  and  in  company,  dress,  and  the 
externals  of  life. 

In  the  same  manner,  with  regard  to  style  of  life  and 
social  entertainment  —  most  of  the  items  which  go  to  con- 
stitute what  is  called  style  of  living,  or  the  style  of  partic- 
ular parties,  may  be  in  themselves  innocent,  and  yet  they 
may  be  so  interwoven  and  combined  with  evils,  that  the 
whole  effect  shall  be  felt  to  be  decidedly  unchristian,  both 
by  Christians  and  the  world.  How,  then,  shall  the  well- 
disposed  person  know  where  to  stop,  and  how  to  strike  the 
just  medium  ? 

We  know  of  but  one  safe  rule:  read  the  life  of  Jesus 
with  attention  —  study  it  —  inquire  earnestly  with  your- 
self, "What  sort  of  a  person,  in  thought,  in  feeling,  in 
action,  was  my  Saviour  ?  "  —  live  in  constant  sympathy 
and  communion  with  him  —  and  there  will  be  within  a 
kind  of  instinctive  rule  by  which  to  try  all  things.  A 
young  man,  who  was  to  be  exposed  to  the  temptations  of 
one  of  the  most  dissipated  European  capitals,  carried  with 
him  his  father's  picture,  and  hung  it  in  his  apartment. 
Before  going  out  to  any  of  the  numerous  resorts  of  the 
city,  he  was  accustomed  to  contemplate  this  picture,  and 
say  to  himself,  "Would  my  father  wish  to  see  me  in  the 


THE  ELDER'S  FEAST  225 

place  to  which  I  am  going  1 "  and  thus  was  he  saved  from 
many  a  temptation.  In  like  manner  the  Christian,  who 
has  always  by  his  side  the  beautiful  ideal  of  his  Saviour, 
finds  it  a  holy  charm,  by  which  he  is  gently  restrained 
from  all  that  is  unsuitable  to  his  profession.  He  has  but 
to  inquire  of  any  scene  or  employment,  "  Should  I  be  well 
pleased  to  meet  my  Saviour  there  1  Would  the  trains  of 
thought  I  should  there  fall  into,  the  state  of  mind  that 
would  there  be  induced,  be  such  as  would  harmonize  with 
an  interview  with  him  ? "  Thus  protected  and  defended, 
social  enjoyment  might  be  like  that  of  Mary  and  John, 
and  the  disciples,  when,  under  the  mild,  approving  eye 
of  the  Son  of  God,  they  shared  the  festivities  of  Cana. 


A  SCENE  IN  JERUSALEM 

IT  is  now  nearly  noon,  the  busiest  and  most  bustling 
hour  of  the  day;  yet  the  streets  of  the  Holy  City  seem 
deserted  and  silent  as  the  grave.  The  artisan  has  left  his 
bench,  the  merchant  his  merchandise;  the  throngs  of 
returned  wanderers  which  this  great  national  festival  has 
brought  up  from  every  land  of  the  earth,  and  which  have 
been  for  the  last  week  carrying  life  and  motion  through 
every  street,  seem  suddenly  to  have  disappeared.  Here 
and  there  solitary  footfalls,  like  the  last  pattering  rain- 
drops after  a  shower,  awaken  the  echoes  of  the  streets; 
and  here  and  there  some  lonely  woman  looks  from  the 
housetop  with  anxious  and  agitated  face,  as  if  she  would 
discern  something  in  the  far  distance. 

Alone,  or  almost  alone,  the  few  remaining  priests  move 
like  white-winged,  solitary  birds  over  the  gorgeous  pave- 
ments of  the  temple,  and  as  they  mechanically  conduct 
the  ministrations  of  the  day,  cast  significant  glances  on 
each  other,  and  pause  here  and  there  to  converse  in  anxious 
whispers. 

Ah,  there  is  one  voice  which  they  have  often  heard 
beneath  those  arches  —  a  voice  which  ever  bore  in  it  a 
mysterious  and  thrilling  charm  —  which  they  know  will 
be  hushed  to-day.  Chief  priest,  scribe,  and  doctor  have 
all  gone  out  in  the  death  procession  after  him;  and  these 
few  remaining  ones,  far  from  the  excitement  of  the  crowd, 
and  busied  in  calm  and  sacred  duties,  find  voices  of 
anxious  questioning  rising  from  the  depths  of  their  own 
souls,  "  What  if  this  indeed  were  the  Christ  ? " 


A  SCENE   IN  JERUSALEM  227 

But  pass  we  on  out  of  the  city,  and  what  a  surging  tide 
of  life  and  motion  meets  the  eye,  as  if  all  nations  under 
heaven  had  dashed  their  waves  of  population  on  this 
Judaean  shore !  A  noisy,  wrathful,  tempestuous  mob,  bil- 
low on  billow,  waver  and  rally  round  some  central  object, 
which  it  conceals  from  view.  Parthians,  Medes,  Elamites, 
dwellers  in  Mesopotamia  and  Egypt,  strangers  of  Rome, 
Cretes  and  Arabians,  Jew  and  Proselyte,  convoked  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  throng  in  agitated  concourse  one  on 
another;  one  theme  in  every  face,  on  every  tongue,  one 
name  in  every  variety  of  accent  and  dialect  passing  from 
lip  to  lip  — 

"Jesus  of  Nazareth." 

Look  on  that  man  —  the  centre  and  cause  of  all  this 
outburst!  He  stands  there  alone.  The  cross  is  ready. 
It  lies  beneath  his  feet.  The  rough  hand  of  a  brutal  sol- 
dier has  seized  his  robe  to  tear  it  from  him.  Another 
with  stalwart  arm  is  boring  the  holes,  gazing  upward,  the 
while  with  a  face  of  stupid  unconcern.  There  on  the 
ground  lie  the  hammer  and  the  nails:  the  hour,  the  mo- 
ment of  doom  is  come!  Look  on  this  man,  as  upward, 
with  deep,  sorrowing  eyes,  he  gazes  towards  heaven. 
Hears  he  the  roar  of  the  mob1?  Feels  he  the  rough  hand 
on  his  garment?  Nay,  he  sees  not,  feels  not:  from  all 
the  rage  and  tumult  of  the  hour  he  is  rapt  away.  A  sor- 
row deeper,  more  absorbing,  more  unearthly  seems  to  pos- 
sess him,  as  upward  with  long  gaze  he  looks  to  that  heaven 
never  before  closed  to  his  prayer,  to  that  God  never  before 
to  him  invisible.  That  mournful,  heaven-searching  glance, 
in  its  lonely  anguish,  says  but  one  thing:  "Lo,  I  come  to 
do  thy  will,  0  God." 

Through  a  life  of  sorrow  the  realized  love  of  his  Father 
has  shone  like  a  precious  and  beautiful  talisman  in  his 
bosom ;  but  now,  when  desolation  and  anguish  have  come 
upon  him  as  a  whirlwind,  this  last  star  has  gone  out  in 


228  A   SCENE   IN  JERUSALEM 

the  darkness,  and  Jesus,  deserted  by  man  and  God,  stands 
there  alone. 

Alone  1  No ;  for  undaunted  by  the  cruel  mob,  fearless 
in  the  strength  of  mortal  anguish,  helpless,  yet  undis- 
mayed, stands  the  one  blessed  among  women,  the  royal 
daughter  of  a  noble  line,  the  priestess  to  whose  care  was 
intrusted  this  spotless  sacrifice.  She  and  her  son,  last  of 
a  race  of  kings,  stand  there  despised,  rejected,  and  dis- 
avowed by  their  nation,  to  accomplish  dread  words  of  pro- 
phecy, which  have  swept  down  for  far  ages  to  this  hour. 

Strange  it  is,  in  this  dark  scene,  to  see  the  likeness 
between  mother  and  son,  deepening  in  every  line  of  those 
faces,  as  they  stand  thus  thrown  out  by  the  dark  back- 
ground of  rage  and  hate,  which  like  a  storm-cloud  lowers 
around.  The  same  rapt,  absorbed,  calm  intensity  of  an- 
guish in  both  mother  and  son,  save  only  that  while  he 
gazes  upward  towards  God,  she,  with  like  fervor,  gazes  on 
him.  What  to  her  is  the  deriding  mob,  the  coarse  taunt, 
the  brutal  abuse  1  Of  it  all  she  hears,  she  feels  nothing. 
She  sinks  not,  faints  not,  weeps  not;  her  whole  being 
concentrates  in  the  will  to  suffer  by  and  with  him  to  the 
last.  Other  hearts  there  are  that  beat  for  him;  others 
that  press  into  the  doomed  circle,  and  own  him  amid  the 
scorn  of  thousands.  There  may  you  see  the  clasped  hands 
and  upraised  eyes  of  a  Magdalen,  the  pale  and  steady 
resolve  of  John,  the  weeping  company  of  women  who 
bewailed  and  lamented  him;  but  none  dare  press  so  near, 
or  seem  so  identical  with  him  in  his  sufferings,  as  this 
mother. 

And  as  we  gaze  on  these  two  in  human  form,  surrounded 
by  other  human  forms,  how  strange  the  contrast!  How 
is  it  possible  that  human  features  and  human  lineaments 
essentially  alike  can  be  wrought  into  such  heaven-wide 
contrast?  Man  is  he  who  stands  there,  lofty  and  spotless, 
in  bleeding  patience !  Men  also  are  those  brutal  soldiers, 


A   SCENE   IN   JERUSALEM  229 

alike  stupidly  ready,  at  the  word  of  command,  to  drive  the 
nail  through  quivering  flesh  or  insensate  wood.  Men  are 
those  scowling  priests  and  infuriate  Pharisees.  Men,  also, 
the  shifting  figures  of  the  careless  rabble,  who  shout  and 
curse  without  knowing  why.  No  visible  glory  shines 
round  that  head;  yet  how,  spite  of  every  defilement  cast 
upon  him  by  the  vulgar  rabble,  seems  that  form  to  be 
glorified!  What  light  is  that  in  those  eyes!  What 
mournful  beauty  in  that  face!  What  solemn,  mysterious 
sacredness  investing  the  whole  form,  constraining  from  us 
the  exclamation,  "Surely  this  is  the  Son  of  God."  Man's 
voice  is  breathing  vulgar  taunt  and  jeer:  "He  saved  others; 
himself  he  cannot  save."  "He  trusted  in  God;  let  him 
deliver  him  if  he  will  have  him."  And  man's,  also,  clear, 
sweet,  unearthly,  pierces  that  stormy  mob,  saying,  "Father, 
forgive  them ;  they  know  not  what  they  do. " 

But  we  draw  the  veil  in  reverence.  It  is  not  ours  to 
picture  what  the  sun  refused  to  shine  upon,  and  earth 
shook  to  behold. 

Little  thought  those  weeping  women,  that  stricken  dis- 
ciple, that  heartbroken  mother,  how  on  some  future  day 
that  cross  —  emblem  to  them  of  deepest  infamy  —  should 
blaze  in  the  eye  of  all  nations,  symbol  of  triumph  and 
hope,  glittering  on  gorgeous  fanes,  embroidered  on  regal 
banners,  associated  with  all  that  is  revered  and  powerful 
on  earth.  The  Roman  ensign  that  waved  on  that  mourn- 
ful day,  symbol  of  highest  earthly  power,  is  a  thing  mould- 
ered and  forgotten;  and  over  all  the  high  places  of  old 
Rome,  herself,  stands  that  mystical  cross,  no  longer  speaking 
of  earthly  anguish  and  despair,  but  of  heavenly  glory,  honor, 
and  immortality. 

Theologians  have  endlessly  disputed  and  philosophized 
on  this  great  fact  of  atonement.  The  Bible  tells  only  that 
this  tragic  event  was  the  essential  point  without  which  our 
salvation  could  never  have  been  secured.  But  where  lay 


230  A   SCENE   IN   JERUSALEM 

the  necessity  they  do  not  say.  What  was  that  dread  strait 
that  either  the  divine  One  must  thus  suffer,  or  man  he 
lost,  who  knoweth  ? 

To  this  question  answer  a  thousand  voices,  with  each 
a  different  solution,  urged  with  equal  confidence  —  each 
solution  to  its  framer  as  certain  and  sacred  as  the  dread 
fact  it  explains  —  yet  every  one,  perhaps,  unsatisfactory  to 
the  deep- questioning  soul.  The  Bible,  as  it  always  does, 
gives  on  this  point  not  definitions  or  distinct  outlines,  but 
images  —  images  which  lose  all  their  glory  and  beauty  if 
seized  by  the  harsh  hands  of  metaphysical  analysis,  but 
inexpressibly  affecting  to  the  unlettered  human  heart, 
which  softens  in  gazing  on  their  mournful  and  mysterious 
beauty.  Christ  is  called  our  sacrifice,  our  passover,  our 
atoning  high  priest;  and  he  himself,  while  holding  in  his 
hands  the  emblem  cup,  says,  "It  is  my  blood  shed  for 
many,  for  the  remission  of  sins."  Let  us  reason  on  it  as 
we  will,  this  story  of  the  cross,  presented  without  explana- 
tion in  the  simple  metaphor  of  the  Bible,  has  produced  an 
effect  on  human  nature  wholly  unaccountable.  In  every 
age  and  clime,  with  every  variety  of  habit,  thought,  and 
feeling,  from  the  cannibals  of  New  Zealand  and  Madagascar 
to  the  most  enlightened  and  scientific  minds  in  Christen- 
dom, one  feeling,  essentially  homogeneous  in  its  character 
and  results,  has  arisen  in  view  of  this  cross.  There  is 
something  in  it  that  strikes  one  of  the  great  nerves  of 
simple,  unsophisticated  humanity,  and  meets  its  wants  as 
nothing  else  will.  Ages  ago,  Paul  declared  to  philosophiz- 
ing Greek  and  scornful  Roman  that  he  was  not  ashamed  of 
this  gospel,  and  alleged  for  his  reason  this  very  adapted- 
ness  to  humanity.  A  priori,  many  would  have  said  that 
Paul  should  have  told  of  Christ  living,  Christ  preaching, 
Christ  working  miracles,  not  omitting  also  the  pathetic 
history  of  how  he  sealed  all  with  his  blood;  but  Paul 
declared  that  he  determined  to  know  nothing  else  but 


A   SCENE  IN   JERUSALEM  231 

Christ  crucified.  He  said  it  was  a  stumbling-block  to  the 
Jew,  an  absurdity  to  the  Greek;  yet  he  was  none  the  less 
positive  in  his  course.  True,  there  were  many  then,  as 
now,  who  looked  on  with  the  most  philosophic  and  culti- 
vated indifference.  The  courtly  Festus,  as  he  settled  his 
purple  tunic,  declared  he  could  make  nothing  of  the  matter, 
only  a  dispute  about  one  Jesus,  who  was  dead,  and  whom 
Paul  affirmed  to  be  alive;  and  perchance  some  Athenian, 
as  he  reclined  on  his  ivory  couch  at  dinner,  after  the  ser- 
mon on  Mars  Hill,  may  have  disposed  of  the  matter  very 
summarily,  and  passed  on  to  criticisms  on  Samian  wine 
and  marble  vases.  Yet  in  spite  of  their  disbelief,  this 
story  of  Christ  has  outlived  them,  their  age  and  nation, 
and  is  to  this  hour  as  fresh  in  human  hearts  as  if  it  were 
just  published.  This  "one  Jesus  which  was  dead,  and 
whom  Paul  affirmed  to  be  alive,"  is  nominally,  at  least, 
the  object  of  religious  homage  in  all  the  more  cultivated 
portions  of  the  globe;  and  to  hearts  scattered  through  all 
regions  of  the  earth  this  same  Jesus  is  now  a  sacred  and 
living  name,  dearer  than  all  household  sounds,  all  ties  of 
blood,  all  sweetest  and  nearest  affections  of  humanity.  "I 
am  ready  not  only  to  be  bound,  but  also  to  die  for  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  are  words  that  have  found  an 
echo  in. the  bosoms  of  thousands  in  every  age  since  then; 
that  would,  if  need  were,  find  no  less  echo  in  thousands 
now.  Considering  .Christ  as  a  man,  and  his  death  as  a 
mere  pathetic  story,  —  considering  him  as  one  of  the  great 
martyrs  for  truth,  who  sealed  it  with  his  blood,  —  this 
result  is  wholly  unaccountable.  Other  martyrs  have  died, 
bravely  and  tenderly,  in  their  last  hours  "bearing  witness 
of  the  godlike "  that  is  in  man ;  but  who  so  remembers 
them?  Who  so  loves  them?  To  whom  is  any  one  of 
them  a  living  presence,  a  life,  and  all?  Yet  so  thousands 
look  on  Jesus  at  this  hour. 

Nay,    it  is  because  this  story  strikes    home   to   every 


232  A  SCENE   IN   JEKUSALEM 

human  bosom  as  an  individual  concern.  A  thrilling  voice 
speaks  from  this  scene  of  anguish  to  every  human  bosom: 
This  is  thy  Saviour.  Thy  sin  hath  done  this.  It  is  the 
appropriative  words,  thine  and  mine,  which  make  this 
history  different  from  any  other  history.  This  was  for 
me,  is  the  thought  which  has  pierced  the  apathy  of  the 
Greenlander,  and  kindled  the  stolid  clay  of  the  Hottentot; 
and  no  human  bosom  has  ever  been  found  so  low,  so  lost, 
so  guilty,  so  despairing,  that  this  truth,  once  received, 
has  not  had  power  to  redeem,  regenerate,  and  disenthrall. 
Christ  so  presented  becomes  to  every  human  being  a  friend 
nearer  than  the  mother  who  bore  him;  and  the  more  de- 
graded, the  more  hopeless  and  polluted  is  the  nature,  the 
stronger  comes  on  the  living  reaction,  if  this  belief  is  really 
and  vividly  enkindled  with  it.  But  take  away  this  appro- 
priative, individual  element,  and  this  legend  of  Jesus' 
death  has  no  more  power  than  any  other.  He  is  to  us  no 
more  than  Washington,  or  Socrates,  or  Howard.  And 
where  is  there  not  a  touchstone  to  try  every  theory  of 
atonement1?  Whatever  makes  a  man  feel  that  he  is  only 
a  spectator,  an  uninterested  judge  in  this  matter,  is  surely 
astray  from  the  idea  of  the  Bible.  Whatever  makes  him 
feel  that  his  sins  have  done  this  deed,  that  he  is  bound, 
soul  and  body,  to  this  Deliverer,  though  it  may  be  in 
many  points  philosophically  erroneous,  cannot  go  far 
astray. 

If  we  could  tell  the  number  of  the  stars,  and  call  them 
forth  by  name,  then,  perhaps,  might  we  solve  all  the 
mystic  symbols  by  which  the  Bible  has  shadowed  forth 
the  far-lying  necessities  and  reachings-forth  of  this  event 
"among  principalities  and  powers,"  and  in  "ages  to  come." 
But  he  who  knows  nothing  of  all  this,  who  shall  so  present 
the  atonement  as  to  bind  and  affiance  human  souls  indisso- 
lubly  to  their  Redeemer,  does  all  that  could  be  done  by 
the  highest  and  most  perfect  knowledge. 


A  SCENE   IN   JERUSALEM  233 

The  great  object  is  accomplished,  when  the  soul,  rapt, 
inspired,  feels  the  deep  resolve :  — 

"Remember  Thee! 
Yea,  from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I  'II  wipe  away  all  trivial,  fond  records, 
All  saws  of  books,  all  forms,  all  pressures  past 
That  youth  and  observation  copied  there, 
And  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmixed  with  baser  matter." 


THE  OLD  MEETING-HOUSE 

SKETCH    FROM    THE    NOTE-BOOK  OF    AN  OLD    GENTLEMAN 

NEVER  shall  I  forget  the  dignity  and  sense  of  impor- 
tance which  swelled  my  mind  when  I  was  first  pronounced 
old  enough  to  go  to  meeting.  That  eventful  Sunday  I 
was  up  long  before  day,  and  even  took  my  Sabbath  suit 
to  the  window  to  ascertain  by  the  first  light  that  it  actually 
was  there,  just  as  it  looked  the  night  before.  With  what 
complacency  did  I  view  myself  completely  dressed !  How 
did  I  count  over  the  rows  of  yellow  gilt  buttons  on  my 
coat !  how  my  good  mother,  grandmother,  and  aunts  fussed, 
and  twitched,  and  pulled,  to  make  everything  set  up  and 
set  down,  just  in  the  proper  place !  how  my  clean,  starched 
white  collar  was  turned  over  and  smoothed  again  and  again, 
and  my  golden  curls  twisted  and  arranged  to  make  the 
most  of  me !  and,  last  of  all,  how  I  was  cautioned  not  to 
be  thinking  of  my  clothes.  In  truth,  I  was  in  those  days 
a  very  handsome  youngster,  and  it  really  is  no  more  than 
justice  to  let  the  fact  be  known,  as  there  is  nothing  in  my 
present  appearance  from  which  it  could  ever  be  inferred. 
Everybody  in  the  house  successively  asked  me  if  I  should 
be  a  good  boy,  and  sit  still,  and  not  talk,  nor  laugh;  and 
my  mother  informed  me,  in  terror  em,  that  there  was  a 
tithing  man,  who  carried  off  naughty  children,  and  shut 
them  up  in  a  dark  place  behind  the  pulpit;  and  that  this 
tithing  man,  Mr.  Zephaniah  Scranton,  sat  just  where  he 
could  see  me.  This  fact  impressed  my  mind  with  more 
solemnity  than  all  the  exhortations  which  had  preceded  it 
—  a  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  facts  above  reason.  Under 


THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE  235 

shadow  and  power  of  this  weighty  truth,  I  demurely  took 
hold  of  my  mother's  forefinger  to  walk  to  meeting. 

The  traveler  in  New  England,  as  he  stands  on  some 
eminence,  and  looks  down  on  its  rich  landscape  of  golden 
grain  and  waving  cornfield,  sees  no  feature  more  beautiful 
than  its  simple  churches,  whose  white  taper  fingers  point 
upward,  amid  the  greenness  and  bloom  of  the  distant  pros- 
pects, as  if  to  remind  one  of  the  overshadowing  providence 
whence  all  this  luxuriant  beauty  flows;  and  year  by  year, 
as  new  ones  are  added  to  the  number,  or  succeed  in  the 
place  of  old  ones,  there  is  discernible  an  evident  improve- 
ment in  their  taste  and  architecture.  Those  modest  Doric 
little  buildings,  with  their  white  pillars,  green  blinds, 
and  neat  inclosures,  are  very  different  affairs  from  those 
great,  uncouth  mountains  of  windows  and  doors  that  stood 
in  the  same  place  years  before.  To  my  childish  eye,  how- 
ever, our  old  meeting-house  was  an  awe-inspiring  thing. 
To  me  it  seemed  fashioned  very  nearly  on  the  model  of 
Noah's  ark  and  Solomon's  temple,  as  set  forth  in  the  pic- 
tures in  my  Scripture  Catechism  —  pictures  which  I  did 
not  doubt  were  authentic  copies;  and  what  more  respecta- 
ble and  venerable  architectural  precedent  could  any  one 
desire?  Its  double  rows  of  windows,  of  which  I  knew 
the  number  by  heart,  its  doors  with  great  wooden  quirls 
over  them,  its  belfry  projecting  out  at  the  east  end,  its 
steeple  and  bell,  all  inspired  as  much  sense  of  the  sublime 
in  me  as  Strasbourg  Cathedral  itself;  and  the  inside  was 
not  a  whit  less  imposing. 

How  magnificent,  to  my  eye,  seemed  the  turnip-like 
canopy  that  hung  over  the  minister's  head,  hooked  by  a 
long  iron  rod  to  the  wall  above !  and  how  apprehensively 
did  I  consider  the  question,  what  would  become  of  him  if 
it  should  fall !  How  did  I  wonder  at  the  panels  on  either 
side  of  the  pulpit,  in  each  of  which  was  carved  and  painted 
a  flaming  red  tulip,  bolt  upright,  with  its  leaves  project- 


236  THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE 

ing  out  at  right  angles!  and  then  at  the  grapevine,  bas- 
relieved  on  the  front,  with  its  exactly  triangular  bunches 
of  grapes,  alternating  at  exact  intervals  with  exactly  trian- 
gular leaves.  To  me  it  was  an  indisputable  representation 
of  how  grapevines  ought  to  look,  if  they  would  only  be 
straight  and  regular,  instead  of  curling  and  scrambling, 
and  twisting  themselves  into  all  sorts  of  slovenly  shapes. 
The  area  of  the  house  was  divided  into  large  square,  pews, 
boxed  up  with  stout  boards,  and  surmounted  with  a  kind 
of  baluster  work,  which  I  supposed  to  be  provided  for  the 
special  accommodation  of  us  youngsters,  being  the  "loop- 
holes of  retreat"  through  which  we  gazed  on  the  "remark- 
abilia  "  of  the  scene.  It  was  especially  interesting  to  me 
to  notice  the  coming  in  to  meeting  of  the  congregation. 
The  doors  were  so  contrived  that  on  entering  you  stepped 
down  instead  of  up  —  a  construction  that  has  more  than 
once  led  to  unlucky  results  in  the  case  of  strangers.  I 
remember  once  when  an  unlucky  Frenchman,  entirely 
unsuspicious  of  the  danger  that  awaited  him,  made  entrance 
by  pitching  devoutly  upon  his  nose  in  the  middle  of  the 
broad  aisle;  that  it  took  three  bunches  of  my  grandmother's 
fennel  to  bring  my  risibles  into  anything  like  composure. 
Such  exhibitions,  fortunately  for  me,  were  very  rare;  but 
still  I  found  great  amusement  in  watching  the  distinctive 
and  marked  outlines  of  the  various  people  that  filled  up 
the  seats  around  me.  A  Yankee  village  presents  a  picture 
of  the  curiosities  of  every  generation:  there  from  year  to 
year,  they  live  on,  preserved  by  hard  labor  and  regular 
habits,  exhibiting  every  peculiarity  of  manner  and  appear- 
ance, as  distinctly  marked  as  when  they  first  came  from 
the  mint  of  nature.  And  as  everybody  goes  punctually 
to  meeting,  the  meeting-house  becomes  a  sort  of  museum 
of  antiquities  —  a  general  muster  ground  for  past  and 
present. 

I  remember  still  with  what  wondering  admiration  I  used 


THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE    '  237 

to  look  around  on  the  people  that  surrounded  our  pew. 
On  one  side  there  was  an  old  Captain  McLean,  and  Major 
McDill,  a  couple  whom  the  mischievous  wits  of  the  village 
designated  as  Captain  McLean  and  Captain  McFat;  and, 
in  truth,  they  were  a  perfect  antithesis,  a  living  exemplifi- 
cation of  flesh  and  spirit.  Captain  McLean  was  a  mourn- 
ful, lengthy,  considerate-looking  old  gentleman,  with  a 
long  face,  digressing  into  a  long,  thin,  horny  nose,  which, 
when  he  applied  his  pocket-handkerchief,  gave  forth  a 
melancholy,  minor-keyed  sound,  such  as  a  ghost  might 
make,  using  a  pocket-handkerchief  in  the  long  gallery  of 
some  old  castle. 

Close  at  his  side  was  the  doughty,  puffing  Captain  Mc- 
Dill, whose  full-orbed,  jolly  visage  was  illuminated  by  a 
most  valiant  red  nose,  shaped  something  like  an  overgrown 
doughnut,  and  looking  as  if  it  had  been  thrown  at  his  face, 
and  happened  to  hit  in  the  middle.  Then  there  was  old 
Israel  Peters,  with  a  wooden  leg,  which  tramped  into 
meeting,  with  undeviating  regularity,  ten  minutes  before 
meeting  time;  and  there  was  Jedediah  Stebbins,  a  thin, 
wistful,  moonshiny-looking  old  gentleman,  whose  mouth 
appeared  as  if  it  had  been  gathered  up  with  a  needle  and 
thread,  and  whose  eyes  seemed  as  if  they  had  been  bound 
with  red  tape;  and  there  was  old  Benaiah  Stephens,  who 
used  regularly  to  get  up  and  stand  when  the  minister  was 
about  half  through  his  sermon,  exhibiting  his  tall  figure, 
long,  single-breasted  coat,  with  buttons  nearly  as  large  as 
a  tea  plate;  his  large,  black,  horn  spectacles  stretched 
down  on  the  extreme  end  of  a  very  long  nose,  and  vigor- 
ously chewing,  meanwhile,  on  the  bunch  of  caraway  which 
he  always  carried  in  one  hand.  Then  there  was  Aunt 
Sally  Stimpson,  and  old  Widow  Smith,  and  a  whole  bevy 
of  little,  dried  old  ladies,  with  small,  straight,  black  bon- 
nets, tight  sleeves  to  the  elbow,  long  silk  gloves,  and  great 
fans,  big  enough  for  a  windmill;  and  of  a  hot  day  it  was 


238  THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE 

a  great  amusement  to  me  to  watch  the  bobbing  of  the 
little  black  bonnets,  which  showed  that  sleep  had  got  the 
better  of  their  owners'  attention,  and  the  sputter  and  rust- 
ling of  the  fans,  when  a  more  profound  nod  than  common 
would  suddenly  waken  them,  and  set  them  to  fanning  and 
listening  with  redoubled  devotion.  There  was  Deacon 
Dundas,  a  great  wagon  load  of  an  old  gentleman,  whose 
ample  pockets  looked  as  if  they  might  have  held  half  the 
congregation,  who  used  to  establish  himself  just  on  one 
side  of  me,  and  seemed  to  feel  such  entire  confidence  in 
the  soundness  and  capacity  of  his  pastor  that  he  could 
sleep  very  comfortably  from  one  end  of  the  sermon  to  the 
other.  Occasionally,  to  be  sure,  one  of  your  officious  blue 
flies,  who,  as  everybody  knows,  are  amazingly  particular 
about  such  matters,  would  buzz  into  his  mouth,  or  flirt 
into  his  ears  a  passing  admonition  as  to  the  impropriety  of 
sleeping  in  meeting,  when  the  good  old  gentleman  would 
start,  open  his  eyes  very  wide,  and  look  about  with  a  reso- 
lute air,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  wasn't  asleep,  I  can  tell 
you ; "  and  then  setting  himself  in  an  edifying  posture  of 
attention,  you  might  perceive  his  head  gradually  settling 
back,  his  mouth  slowly  opening  wider  and  wider,  till  the 
good  man  would  go  off  again  soundly  asleep,  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

It  was  a  good  orthodox  custom  of  old  times  to  take 
every  part  of  the  domestic  establishment  to  meeting,  even 
down  to  the  faithful  dog,  who,  as  he  had  supervised  the 
labors  of  the  week,  also  came  with  due  particularity  to 
supervise  the  worship  of  Sunday.  I  think  I  can  see  now 
the  fitting  out  on  a  Sunday  morning  —  the  one  wagon,  or 
two,  as  the  case  might  be,  tackled  up  with  an  "  old  gray  " 
or  an  "old  bay,"  with  a  buffalo  skin  over  the  seat  by  way 
of  cushion,  and  all  the  family,  in  their  Sunday  best,  packed 
in  for  meeting;  while  Master  Bose,  Watch,  or  Towser 
stood  prepared  to  be  an  outguard,  and  went  meekly  trot- 


THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE  239 

ting  up  hill  and  down  dale  in  the  rear.  Arrived  at  meet- 
ing, the  canine  part  of  the  establishment  generally  con- 
ducted themselves  with  great  decorum,  lying  down  and 
going  to  sleep  as  decently  as  anybody  present,  except  when 
some  of  the  business-loving  bluebottles  aforesaid  would 
make  a  sortie  upon  them,  when  you  might  hear  the  snap  of 
their  jaws  as  they  vainly  sought  to  lay  hold  of  the  offender. 
Now  and  then,  between  some  of  the  sixthlies,  seventhlies, 
and  eighthlies,  you  might  hear  some  old  patriarch  giving 
himself  a  rousing  shake,  and  pitpatting  soberly  up  the 
aisles,  as  if  to  see  that  everything  was  going  on  properly, 
after  which  he  would  lie  down  and  compose  himself  to  sleep 
again ;  and  certainly  this  was  as  improving  a  way  of  spend- 
ing Sunday  as  a  good  Christian  dog  could  desire. 

But  the  glory  of  our  meeting-house  was  its  singers' 
seat  —  that  empyrean  of  those  who  rejoiced  in  the  divine, 
mysterious  art  of  fa-sol-la-ing,  who,  by  a  distinguishing 
grace  and  privilege,  could  "  raise  and  fall "  the  cabalistical 
eighth  notes,  and  move  serene  through  the  enchanted  region 
of  flats,  sharps,  thirds,  fifths,  and  octaves. 

There  they  sat  in  the  gallery  that  lined  three  sides  of 
the  house,  treble,  counter,  tenor,  and  bass,  each  with  its 
appropriate  leaders  and  supporters;  there  were  generally 
seated  the  bloom  of  our  young  people;  sparkling,  modest, 
and  blushing  girls  on  one  side,  with  their  ribbons  and 
finery,  making  the  place  where  they  sat  as  blooming  and 
lively  as  a  flower  garden,  and  fiery,  forward,  confident 
young  men  on  the  other.  In  spite  of  its  being  a  meeting- 
house, we  could  not  swear  that  glances  were  never  given 
and  returned,  and  that  there  was  not  often  as  much  of  an 
approach  to  flirtation  as  the  distance  and  the  sobriety  of 
the  place  would  admit.  Certain  it  was,  that  there  was  no 
place  where  our  village  coquettes  attracted  half  so  many 
eyes  or  led  astray  half  so  many  hearts. 

But  I  have  been  talking  of  singers  all  this  time,  and 


240  THE   OLD  MEETING-HOUSE 

neglected  to  mention  the  Magnus  Apollo  of  the  whole  con- 
cern, the  redoubtable  chorister,  who  occupied  the  seat  of 
honor  in  the  midst  of  the  middle  gallery,  and  exactly 
opposite  to  the  minister.  Certain  it  is  that  the  good  man, 
if  he  were  alive,  would  never  believe  it;  for  no  person 
ever  more  magnified  his  office,  or  had  a  more  thorough 
belief  in  his  own  greatness  and  supremacy,  than  Zedekiah 
Morse.  Methinks  I  can  see  him  now  as  he  appeared  to 
my  eyes  on  that  first  Sunday,  when  he  shot  up  from 
behind  the  gallery,  as  if  he  had  been  sent  up  by  a  spring. 
He  was  a  little  man,  whose  fiery  red  hair,  brushed  straight 
upon  the  top  of  his  head,  had  an  appearance  as  vigorous 
and  lively  as  real  flame;  and  this,  added  to  the  ardor  and 
determination  of  all  his  motions,  had  obtained  for  him  the 
surname  of  the  "Burning  Bush."  He  seemed  possessed 
with  the  very  soul  of  song ;  and  from  the  moment  he  began 
to  sing,  looked  alive  all  over,  till  it  seemed  to  me  that  his 
whole  body  would  follow  his  hair  upwards,  fairly  rapt 
away  by  the  power  of  harmony.  With  what  an  air  did 
he  sound  the  important  fa-sol-la  in  the  ears  of  the  waiting 
gallery,  who  stood  with  open  mouths  ready  to  seize  their 
pitch,  preparatory  to  their  general  set  to  !  How  did  his 
ascending  and  descending  arm  astonish  the  zephyrs  when 
once  he  laid  himself  out  to  the  important  work  of  beating 
time!  How  did  his  little  head  whisk  from  side  to  side, 
as  now  he  beat  and  roared  towards  the  ladies  on  his  right, 
and  now  towards  the  gentlemen  on  his  left!  It  used  to 
seem  to  my  astonished  vision  as  if  his  form  grew  taller, 
his  arm  longer,  his  hair  redder,  and  his  little  green  eyes 
brighter,  with  every  stave;  and  particularly  when  he  per- 
ceived any  falling  off  of  time  or  discrepancy  in  pitch; 
with  what  redoubled  vigor  would  he  thump  the  gallery 
and  roar  at  the  delinquent  quarter,  till  every  mother's  son 
and  daughter  of  them  skipped  and  scrambled  into  the  right 
place  again! 


THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE  241 

Oh,  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  see  the  vigor  and  discipline 
with  which  he  managed  the  business;  so  that  if,  on  a 
hot,  drowsy  Sunday,  any  part  of  the  choir  hung  back  or 
sung  sleepily  on  the  first  part  of  a  verse,  they  were  obliged 
to  bestir  themselves  in  good  earnest,  and  sing  three  times 
as  fast,  in  order  to  get  through  with  the  others.  'Kiah 
Morse  was  no  advocate  for  your  dozy,  drawling  singing, 
that  one  may  do  at  leisure,  between  sleeping  and  waking, 
I  assure  you;  indeed,  he  got  entirely  out  of  the  graces  of 
Deacon  Dundas  and  one  or  two  other  portly,  leisurely  old 
gentlemen  below,  who  had  been  used  to  throw  back  their 
heads,  shut  up  their  eyes,  and  take  the  comfort  of  the 
psalm,  by  prolonging  indefinitely  all  the  notes.  The  first 
Sunday  after  'Kiah  took  the  music  in  hand,  the  old  deacon 
really  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him,  for  the  psalm 
was  sung  off  before  he  was  ready  to  get  his  mouth  opened, 
and  he  really  looked  upon  it  as  a  most  irreverent  piece  of 
business. 

But  the  glory  of  'Kiah's  art  consisted  in  the  execution 
of  those  good  old  billowy  compositions  called  fuguing 
tunes,  where  the  four  parts  that  compose  the  choir  take 
up  the  song,  and  go  racing  around  one  after  another,  each 
singing  a  different  set  of  words,  till,  at  length,  by  some 
inexplicable  magic,  they  all  come  together  again,  and  sail 
smoothly  out  into  a  rolling  sea  of  song.  I  remember  the 
wonder  with  which  I  used  to  look  from  side  to  side  when 
treble,  tenor,  counter,  and  bass  were  thus  roaring  and 
foaming,  —  and  it  verily  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  psalm  was 
going  to  pieces  among  the  breakers,  —  and  the  delighted 
astonishment  with  which  I  found  that  each  particular  verse 
did  emerge  whole  and  uninjured  from  the  storm. 

But  alas  for  the  wonders  of  that  old  meeting-house,  how 
they  are  passed  away !  Even  the  venerable  building  itself 
has  been  pulled  down,  and  its  fragments  scattered;  yet 
still  I  retain  enough  of  my  childish  feelings  to  wonder 


242  THE   OLD   MEETING-HOUSE 

whether  any  little  boy  was  gratified  by  the  possession  of 
those  painted  tulips  and  grapevines,  which  my  childish  eye 
used  to  covet,  and  about  the  obtaining  of  which,  in  case 
the  house  should  ever  be  pulled  down,  I  devised  so  many 
schemes  during  the  long  sermons  and  services  of  summer 
days.  I  have  visited  the  spot  where  it  stood,  but  the 
modern,  fair-looking  building  that  stands  in  its  room  bears 
no  trace  of  it;  and  of  the  various  familiar  faces  that  used 
to  be  seen  inside  not  one  remains.  Verily,  I  must  be 
growing  old ;  and  as  old  people  are  apt  to  spin  long  stories, 
I  check  myself,  and  lay  down  my  pen. 


LITTLE   EDWAED 

WERE  any  of  you  born  in  New  England,  in  the  good 
old  catechising,  church-going,  school-going,  orderly  times? 
If  so,  you  may  have  seen  my  Uncle  Abel;  the  most  per- 
pendicular, rectangular,  upright,  downright  good  man  that 
ever  labored  six  days  and  rested  on  the  seventh. 

You  remember  his  hard,  weather-beaten  countenance, 
where  every  line  seemed  drawn  with  "  a  pen  of  iron  and  the 
point  of  a  diamond ; "  his  considerate  gray  eyes,  that  moved 
over  objects  as  if  it  were  not  best  to  be  in  a  hurry  about 
seeing ;  the  circumspect  opening  and  shutting  of  the  mouth ; 
his  down-sitting  and  up-rising,  all  performed  with  convic- 
tion aforethought — .in  short,  the  whole  ordering  of  his  life 
and  conversation,  which  was,  according  to  the  tenor  of  the 
military  order,  "  to  the  right  about  face  —  forward,  march !  " 

Now,  if  you  supposed,  from  all  this  triangularism  of 
exterior,  that  this  good  man  had  nothing  kindly  within, 
you  were  much  mistaken.  You  often  find  the  greenest 
grass  under  a  snowdrift;  and  though  my  uncle's  mind  was 
not  exactly  of  the  flower  garden  kind,  still  there  was  an 
abundance  of  wholesome  and  kindly  vegetation  there. 

It  is  true,  he  seldom  laughed,  and  never  joked  himself; 
but  no  man  had  a  more  serious  and  weighty  conviction  of 
what  a  good  joke  was  in  another;  and  when  some  exceed- 
ing witticism  was  dispensed  in  his  presence,  you  might  see 
Uncle  Abel's  face  slowly  relax  into  an  expression  of  sol- 
emn satisfaction,  and  he  would  look  at  the  author  with 
a  sort  of  quiet  wonder,  as  if  it  was  past  his  comprehension 
how  such  a  thing  could  ever  come  into  a  man's  head. 


244  LITTLE   EDWAKD 

Uncle  Abel,  too,  had  some  relish  for  the  fine  arts;  in 
proof  of  which,  I  might  adduce  the  pleasure  with  which 
he  gazed  at  the  plates  in  his  family  Bible,  the  likeness 
whereof  is  neither  in  heaven,  nor  on  earth,  nor  under  the 
earth.  And  he  was  also  such  an  eminent  musician,  that 
he  could  go  through  the  singing-book  at  one  sitting  with- 
out the  least  fatigue,  beating  time  like  a  windmill  all  the 
way. 

He  had,  too,  a  liberal  hand,  though  his  liberality  was 
all  by  the  rule  of  three.  He  did  by  his  neighbor  exactly 
as  he  would  be  done  by.  He  loved  some  things  in  this 
world  very  sincerely ;  he  loved  his  God  much,  but  he 
honored  and  feared  him  more.  He  was  exact  with  others; 
he  was  more  exact  with  himself,  and  he  expected  his  God 
to  be  more  exact  still. 

Everything  in  Uncle  Abel's  house  was  in  the  same 
time,  place,  manner,  and  form,  from  year's  end  to  year's 
end.  There  was  old  Master  Bose,  a  dog  after  my  uncle's 
own  heart,  who  always  walked  as  if  he  was  studying  the 
multiplication  table.  There  was  the  old  clock,  forever 
ticking  in  the  kitchen  corner,  with  a  picture  on  its  face 
of  the  sun,  forever  setting  behind  a  perpendicular  row  of 
poplar-trees.  There  was  the  never  failing  supply  of  red 
peppers  and  onions  hanging  over  the  chimney.  There, 
too,  were  the  yearly  hollyhocks  and  morning-glories  bloom- 
ing about  the  windows.  There  was  the  "best  room, ""with 
its  sanded  floor,  the  cupboard  in  one  corner  with  its  glass 
doors,  the  ever  green  asparagus  bushes  in  the  chimney,  and 
there  was  the  stand  with  the  Bible  and  almanac  on  it  in 
another  corner.  There,  too,  was  Aunt  Betsey,  who  never 
looked  any  older,  Because  she  always  looked  as  old  as  she 
could;  who  always  dried  her  catnip  and  wormwood  the 
last  of  September,  and  began  to  clean  house  the  first  of 
May.  In  short,  this  was  the  land  of  continuance.  Old 
Time  never  took  it  into  his  head  to  practice  either 


LITTLE   EDWARD  245 

addition,  or  subtraction,  or  multiplication  on  its  sum 
total. 

This  Aunt  Betsey  aforenamed  was  the  neatest  and  most 
efficient  piece  of  human  machinery  that  ever  operated  in 
forty  places  at  once.  She  was  always  everywhere,  pre- 
dominating over  and  seeing  to  everything;  and  though  my 
uncle  had  been  twice  married,  Aunt  Betsey's  rule  and 
authority  had  never  been  broken.  She  reigned  over  his 
wives  when  living,  and  reigned  after  them  when  dead,  and 
so  seemed  likely  to  reign  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 
But  my  uncle's  latest  wife  left  Aunt  Betsey  a  much  less 
tractable  subject  than  ever  before  had  fallen  to  her  lot. 
Little  Edward  was  the  child  of  my  uncle's  old  age,  and 
a  brighter,  merrier  little  blossom  never  grew  on  the  verge 
of  an  avalanche.  He  had  been  committed  to  the  nursing 
of  his  grandmamma  till  he  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  indis- 
cretion,  and  then  my  old  uncle's  heart  so  yearned  for  him 
that  he  was  sent  for  to  come  home. 

His  introduction  into  the  family  excited  a  terrible  sensa- 
tion. Never  was  there  such  a  contemner  of  dignities,  such 
a  violator  of  high  places  and  sanctities,  as  this  very  Master 
Edward.  It  was  all  in  vain  to  try  to  teach  him  decorum. 
He  was  the  most  outrageously  merry  elf  that  ever  shook 
a  head  of  curls,  and  it  was  all  the  same  to  him  whether  it 
was  "Sabba'  day"  or  any  other  day.  He  laughed  and 
frolicked  with  everybody  and  everything  that  came  in  his 
way,  not  even  excepting  his  solemn  old  father;  and  when 
you  saw  him,  with  his  fair  arms  around  the  old  man's 
neck,  and  his  bright  blue  eyes  and  blooming  cheek  peering 
out  beside  the  bleak  face  of  Uncle  Abel,  you  might  fancy 
you  saw  spring  caressing  winter.  Uncle  Abel's  metaphy- 
sics were  sorely  puzzled  by  this  sparkling,  dancing  com- 
pound of  spirit  and  matter;  nor  could  he  devise  any 
method  of  bringing  it  into  any  reasonable  shape,  for  he 
did  mischief  with  an  energy  and  perseverance  that  was 


246  LITTLE   EDWARD 

truly  astonishing.  Once  he  scoured  the  floor  with  Aunt 
Betsey's  very  Scotch  snuff;  once  he  washed  up  the  hearth 
with  Uncle  Abel's  most  immaculate  clothes-brush;  arid 
once  he  was  found  trying  to  make  Bose  wear  his  father's 
spectacles.  In  short,  there  was  no  use,  except  the  right 
one,  to  which  he  did  not  put  everything  that  came  in  his 
way. 

But  Uncle  Abel  was  most  of  all  puzzled  to  know  what 
to  do  with  him  on  the  Sabbath,  for  on  that  day  Master 
Edward  seemed  to  exert  himself  to  be  particularly  diligent 
and  entertaining.  • 

"  Edward !  Edward  must  not  play  Sunday !  "  his  father 
would  call  out ;  and  then  Edward  would  hold  up  his  curly 
head,  and  look  as  grave  as  the  Catechism;  but  in  three 
minutes  you  would  see  "  pussy  "  scampering  through  the 
"best  room,"  with  Edward  at  her  heels,  to  the  entire  dis- 
composure of  all  devotion  in  Aunt  Betsey  and  all  others 
in  authority. 

At  length  my  uncle  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "it 
wasn't  in  natur'  to  teach  him  any  better,"  and  that  "he 
could  no  more  keep  Sunday  than  the  brook  down  in  the 
lot."  My  poor  uncle i  he  did  not  know  what  was  the 
matter  with  his  heart,  but  certain  it  was,  he  lost  all  faculty 
of  scolding  when  little  Edward  was  in  the  case,  and  he 
would  rub  his  spectacles  a  quarter  of  an  hour  longer  than 
common  when  Aunt  Betsey  was  detailing  his  witticisms 
and  clever  doings. 

In  process  of  time  our  hero  had  compassed  his  third  year 
and  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  going  to  school.  He  went 
illustriously  through  the  spelling-book,  and  then  attacked 
the  Catechism;  went  from  "man's  chief  end"  to  the  "re- 
quirin's  and  forbiddin's  "  in  a  fortnight,  and  at  last  came 
home  inordinately  merry,  to  tell  his  father  that  he  had  got 
to  "Amen."  After  this,  he  made  a  regular  business  of 
saying  over  the  whole  every  Sunday  evening,  standing 


LITTLE   EDWARD  247 

with  his  hands  folded  in  front  and  his  checked  apron 
folded  down,  occasionally  glancing  round  to  see  if  pussy 
gave  proper  attention.  And,  being  of  a  practically  bene- 
volent turn  of  mind,  he  made  several  commendable  efforts 
to  teach  Bose  the  Catechism,  in  which  he  succeeded  as  well 
as  might  be  expected.  In  short,  without  further  detail, 
Master  Edward  bade  fair  to  become  a  literary  wonder. 

But  alas  for  poor  little  Edward!  his  merry  dance  was 
soon  over.  A  day  came  when  he  sickened.  Aunt  Betsey 
tried  her  whole  herbarium,  but  in  vain :  he  grew  rapidly 
worse  and  worse.  His  father  sickened  in  heart,  but  said 
nothing ;  he  only  stayed  by  his  bedside  day  and  night,  try- 
ing all  means  to  save,  with  affecting  pertinacity. 

"Can't  you  think  of  anything  more,  doctor?"  said  he 
to  the  physician,  when  all  had  been  tried  in  vain. 

"Nothing,"  answered  the  physician. 

A  momentary  convulsion  passed  over  my  uncle's  face. 
"The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done,"  said  he,  almost  with  a 
groan  of  anguish. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun  pierced 
the  checked  curtains,  and  gleamed  like  an  angel's  smile 
across  the  face  of  the  little  sufferer.  He  woke  from  trou- 
bled sleep. 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  am  so  sick ! "  he  gasped  feebly.  His 
father  raised  him  in  his  arms;  he  breathed  easier,  and 
looked  up  with  a  grateful  smile.  Just  then  his  old  play- 
mate, the  cat,  crossed  the  room.  "There  goes  pussy," 
said  he;  "oh,  dear!  I  shall  never  play  any  more!" 

At  that  moment  a  deadly  change  passed  over  his  face. 
He  looked  up  in  his  father's  face  with  an  imploring  expres- 
sion, and  put  out  his  hand  as  if  for  help.  There  was  one 
moment  of  agony,  and  then  the  sweet  features  all  settled 
into  a  smile  of  peace,  and  "mortality  was  swallowed  up  of 
life." 

My  uncle  laid  him  down,   and  looked  one  moment  at 


248  LITTLE   EDWARD 

his  beautiful  face.  It  was  too  much  for  his  principles,  too 
much  for  his  consistency,  and  "he  lifted  up  his  voice  and 
wept." 

The  next  morning  was  the  Sabbath,  —  the  funeral  day, 
• — and  it  rose  with  "breath  all  incense  and  with  cheek  all 
bloom."  Uncle  Abel  was  as  calm  and  collected  as  ever; 
but  in  his  face  there  was  a  sorrow-stricken  appearance 
touching  to  behold.  1  remember  him  at  family  prayers,  as 
he  bent  over  the  great  Bible  and  began  the  psalm,  "Lord, 
thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  generations." 
Apparently  he  was  touched  by  the  melancholy  splendor  of 
the  poetry,  for  after  reading  a  few  verses  he  stopped. 
There  was  a  dead  silence,  interrupted  only  by  the  tick  of 
the  clock.  He  cleared  his  voice  repeatedly,  and  tried  to 
go  on,  but  in  vain.  He  closed  the  book,  and  kneeled 
down  to  prayer.  The  energy  of  sorrow  broke  through  his 
usual  formal  reverence,  and  his  language  flowed  forth  with 
a  deep  and  sorrowful  pathos  which  I  shall  never  forget. 
The  God  so  much  reverenced,  so  much  feared,  seemed  to 
draw  near  to  him  as  a  friend  and  comforter,  his  refuge  and 
strength,  "a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble." 

My  uncle  rose,  and  I  saw  him  walk  to  the  room  of  the 
departed  one.  He  uncovered  the  face.  It  was  set, with 
the  seal  of  death ;  but  oh,  how  surpassingly  lovely !  The 
brilliancy  of  life  was  gone,  but  that  pure,  transparent  face 
was  touched  with  a  mysterious,  triumphant  brightness, 
which  seemed  like  the  dawning  of  heaven. 

My  uncle  looked  long  and  earnestly.  He  felt  the  beauty 
of  what  he  gazed  on ;  his  heart  was  softened,  but  he  had 
no  words  for  his  feelings.  He  left  the  room  unconsciously, 
and  stood  in  the  front  door.  The  morning  was  bright,  the 
bells  were  ringing  for  church,  the  birds  were  singing  mer- 
rily, and  the  pet  squirrel  of  little  Edward  was  frolicking 
about  the  door.  My  uncle  watched  him  as  he  ran  first  up 
one  tree,  and  then  down  and  up  another,  and  then  over 


LITTLE   EDWARD  249 

the  fence,  whisking  his  brush  and  chattering  just  as  if 
nothing  was  the  matter. 

With  a  deep  sigh  Uncle  Abel  broke  forth,  "How  happy 
that  cretur'  is!  Well,  the  Lord's  will  be  done." 

That  day  the  dust  was  committed  to  dust,  amid  the 
lamentations  of  all  who  had  known  little  Edward.  Years 
have  passed  since  then,  and  all  that  is  mortal  of  my  uncle 
has  long  since  been  gathered  to  his  fathers;  but  his  just 
and  upright  spirit  has  entered  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
sons  of  God.  Yes,  the  good  man  may  have  had  opinions 
which  the  philosophical  scorn,  weaknesses  at  which  the 
thoughtless  smile;  but  death  shall  change  him  into  all 
that  is  enlightened,  wise,  and  refined,  for  he  shall  awake 
in  "His"  likeness,  and  "be  satisfied." 


CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION 

"For  every  idle  word  that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  account 
thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment." 

"A  VERY  solemn  sermon,"  said  Miss  B.,  shaking  her 
head  impressively,  as  she  sat  down  to  table  on  Sunday 
noon;  then  giving  a  deep  sigh,  she  added,  "I  am  afraid 
that  if  an  account  is  to  be  rendered  for  all  our  idle  words, 
some  people  will  have  a  great  deal  to  answer  for.7' 

"Why,  Cousin  Anna,"  replied  a  sprightly  young  lady 
opposite,  "what  do  you  mean  by  idle  words?" 

"All  words  that  have  not  a  strictly  useful  tendency, 
Helen,"  replied  Miss  B. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  me,  then,"  an- 
swered Helen,  "for  I  never  can  think  of  anything  useful 
to  say.  I  sit  and  try  sometimes,  but  it  always  stops  my 
talking.  I  don't  think  anything  in  the  world  is  so  dole- 
ful as  a  set  of  persons  sitting  round,  all  trying  to  say  some- 
thing useful,  like  a  parcel  of  old  clocks  ticking  at  each 
other.  I  think  one  might  as  well  take  the  vow  of  entire 
silence,  like  the  monks  of  La  Trappe." 

"It  is  probable,"  said  Miss  B.,  "that  a  greater  part  of 
our  ordinary  conversation  had  better  be  dispensed  with. 
'  In  the  multitude  of  words  there  wanteth  not  sin. '  Eor 
my  own  part,  my  conscience  often  reproaches  me  with  the 
sins  of  my  tongue." 

"I  'm  sure  you  don't  sin  much  that  way,  I  must  say," 
said  Helen;  "but,  cousin,  I  really  think  it  is  a  freezing 
business  sitting  still  and  reflecting  all  the  time  when 
friends  are  together;  and,  after  all,  I  can't  bring  myself  to 


CONVERSATION  OX  CONVERSATION        251 

feel  as  if  it  were  wrong  to  talk  and  chatter  away  a  good 
part  of  the  time,  just  for  the  sake  of  talking.  For  in- 
stance, if  a  friend  comes  in  of  a  morning  to  make  a  call, 
I  talk  about  the  weather,  my  roses,  my  canary-birds,  or 
anything  that  comes  uppermost." 

"And  about  lace,  and  bonnet  patterns,  and  the  last 
fashions,"  added  Miss  B.  sarcastically. 

"Well,  supposing  we  do;  where  's  the  harm?" 

"Where  's  the  good?"  said  Miss  B. 

"The  good!  why,  it  passes  time  agreeably,  and  makes 
us  feel  kindly  towards  each  other." 

"I  think,  Helen,"  said  Miss  B.,  "if  you  had  a  higher 
view  of  Christian  responsibility,  you  would  not  be  satisfied 
with  merely  passing  time  agreeably,  or  exciting  agreeable 
feelings  in  others.  Does  not  the  very  text  we  are  speak- 
ing of  show  that  we  have  an  account  to  give  in  the  day 
of  judgment  for  all  this  trifling,  useless  conversation?" 

"I  don't  know  what  that  text  does  mean,"  replied 
Helen,  looking  seriously;  "but  if  it  means  as  you  say,  I 
think  it  is  a  very  hard,  strait  rule." 

"Well,"  replied  Miss  B.,  "is  not  duty  always  hard  and 
strait  ?  '  Strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way, '  you 
know. " 

Helen  sighed. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this,  Uncle  C.  ? "  she  said, 
after  some  pause.  The  uncle  of  the  two  young  ladies  had 
been  listening  thus  far  in  silence. 

"I  think,"  he  replied,  "that  before  people  begin  to 
discuss,  they  should  be  quite  sure  as  to  what  they  are 
talking  about,  and  I  am  not  exactly  clear  in  this  case. 
You  say,  Anna,"  said  he,  turning  to  Miss  B.,  "that  all 
conversation  is  idle  which  has  not  a  directly  useful  ten- 
dency. Now,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  Are  we  never 
to  say  anything  that  has  not  for  its  direct  and  specific 
object  the  benefit  of  others  or  of  ourselves?  " 


252        CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  B.,  "I  suppose  not." 

"Well,  then,  when  I  say,  'Good-morning,  sir;  'tis  a 
pleasant  day,'  I  have  no  such  object.  Are  these,  then, 
idle  words  ? " 

"Why,  no,  not  exactly,"  replied  Miss  B.  ;  "in  some 
cases  it  is  necessary  to  say  something,  so  as  not  to  appear 
rude." 

"Very  well,"  replied  her  uncle.  "You  admit,  then, 
that  some  things,  which  are  not  instructive  in  themselves 
considered,  are  to  be  said  to  keep  up  the  intercourse  of 
society  1 " 

"Certainly;  some  things,"  said  Miss  B. 

"Well,  now,  in  the  case  mentioned  by  Helen,  when 
two  or  three  people  with  whom  you  are  in  different  degrees 
of  intimacy  call  upon  you,  I  think  she  is  perfectly  right, 
as  she  said,  in  talking  of  roses,  and  canary  -  birds,  and 
even  of  bonnet  patterns,  and  lace,  or  anything  of  the  kind, 
for  the  sake  of  making  conversation.  It  amounts  to  the 
same  thing  as  '  good-morning, '  and  '  good-evening, '  and 
the  other  courtesies  of  society.  This  sort  of  small  talk 
has  nothing  instructive  in  it,  and  yet  it  may  be  useful  in 
its  place.  It  makes  people  comfortable  and  easy,  promotes 
kind  and  social  feelings;  and  making  people  comfortable 
by  any  innocent  means  is  certainly  not  a  thing  to  be  de- 
spised." 

"But  is  there  not  great  danger  of  becoming  light  and 
trifling  if  one  allows  this  1 "  said  Miss  B.  doubtfully. 

"To  be  sure;  there  is  always  danger  of  running  every 
innocent  thing  to  excess.  One  might  eat  to  excess,  or 
drink  to  excess;  yet  eating  and  drinking  are  both  useful 
in  their  way.  Now,  our  lively  young  friend  Helen,  here, 
might  perhaps  be  in  some  temptation  of  this  sort;  but  as 
for  you,  Anna,  I  think  you  in  more  danger  of  another 
extreme. " 

"And  what  is  that?" 


CONVERSATION   ON  CONVERSATION  253 

"  Of  overstraining  your  mind  by  endeavoring  to  keep  up 
a  constant,  fixed  state  of  seriousness  and  solemnity,  and 
not  allowing  yourself  the  relaxation  necessary  to  preserve 
its  healthy  tone.  In  order  to  be  healthy,  every  mind 
must  have  variety  and  amusement;  and  if  you  would  sit 
down  at  least  one  hour  a  day,  and  join  your  friends  in 
some  amusing  conversation,  and  indulge  in  a  good  laugh, 
I  think,  my  dear,  that  you  would  not  only  be  a  happier 
person,  but  a  better  Christian." 

"My  dear  uncle,"  said  Miss  B.,  "this  is  the  very  thing 
that  I  have  been  most  on  my  guard  against ;  I  can  never 
tell  stories,  or  laugh  and  joke,  without  feeling  condemned 
for  it  afterwards." 

"  But,  my  dear,  you  must  do  the  thing  in  the  testimony 
of  a  good  conscience  before  you  can  do  it  to  any  purpose. 
You  must  make  up  your  mind  that  cheerful  and  entertain- 
ing conversation  —  conversation  whose  first  object  is  to 
amuse  —  is  useful  conversation  in  its  place,  and  then  your 
conscience  will  not  be  injured  by  joining  in  it." 

"  But  what  good  does  it  do,  uncle  1 " 

"Do  you  not  often  complain  of  coldness  and  deadness  in 
your  religious  feelings  1  of  lif elessness  and  want  of  interest  ?  " 

"Yes,  uncle." 

"Well,  this  coldness  and  lifelessness  is  the  result  of 
forcing  your  mind  to  one  set  of  thoughts  and  feelings. 
You  become  worn  out  —  your  feelings  exhausted  —  dead- 
ness  and  depression  ensue.  Now,  turn  your  mind  off 
from  these  subjects  —  divert  it  by  a  cheerful  and  animated 
conversation,  and  you  will  find,  after  a  while,  that  it  will 
return  to  them  with  new  life  and  energy." 

"  But  are  not  foolish  talking  and  jesting  expressly  for- 
bidden?" 

"That  text,  if  you  will  look  at  the  connections,  does 
not  forbid  jesting  in  the  abstract;  but  jesting  on  immodest 
subjects  —  which  are  often  designated  in  the  New  Testa- 


254        CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION 

ment  by  the  phraseology  there  employed.  I  should  give 
the  sense  of  it  —  neither  filthiriess,  nor  foolish  talking, 
rior  indelicate  jests.  The  kind  of  sprightly  and  amusing 
conversation  to  which  I  referred,  I  should  not  denominate 
foolish,  by  any  means,  at  proper  times  and  places." 

"Yet  people  often  speak  of  gayety'as  inconsistent  in 
Christians  —  even  worldly  people,"  said  Miss  B. 

"  Yes,  because,  in  the  first  place,  they  often  have  wrong 
ideas  as  to  what  Christianity  requires  in  this  respect,  and 
suppose  Christians  to  be  violating  their  own  principles  in 
indulging  in  it.  In  the  second  place,  there  are  some, 
especially  among  young  people,  who  never  talk  in  any 
other  way  —  with  whom  this  kind  of  conversation  is  not 
an  amusement,  but  a  habit  —  giving  the  impression  that 
they  never  think  seriously  at  all.  But  I  think,  that  if 
persons  are  really  possessed  by  the  tender,  affectionate, 
benevolent  spirit  of  Christianity  —  if  they  regulate  their 
temper  and  their  tongue  by  it,  and  in  all  their  actions 
show  an  evident  effort  to  conform  to  its  precepts,  they  will 
not  do  harm  by  occasionally  indulging  in  sprightly  and 
amusing  conversation  —  they  will  not  make  the  impression 
that  they  are  not  sincerely  Christians." 

"Besides,"  said  Helen,  "are  not  people  sometimes 
repelled  from  religion  by  a  want  of  cheerfulness  in  its 
professors  ?  " 

"  Certainly/7  replied  her  uncle,  "  and  the  difference  is 
just  this :  if  persons  are  habitually  trifling  and  thoughtless, 
it  is  thought  that  they  have  no  religion ;  if  they  are  ascetic 
and  gloomy  it  is  attributed  to  their  religion ;  and  you  know 
what  Miss  E.  Smith  says  —  that  '  to  be  good  and  disagree- 
able is  high  treason  against  virtue.'  The  more  sincerely 
and  earnestly  religious  a  person  is,  the  more  important  it 
is  that  he  should  be  agreeable." 

"  But,  uncle,"  said  Helen,  "  what  does  that  text  mean 
that  we  began  with  ?  What  are  idle  words  ?  " 


CONVERSATION   ON   CONVERSATION  255 

"My  dear,  if  you  will  turn  to  the  place  where  the  pas- 
sage is  (Matt,  xii.)  and  read  the  whole  page,  you  will  see 
the  meaning  of  it.  Christ  was  not  reproving  anybody  for 
trifling  conversation  at  the  time;  but  for  a  very  serious 
slander.  The  Pharisees,  in  their  bitterness,  accused  him 
of  being  in  league  with  evil  spirits.  It  seems,  by  what 
follows,  that  this  was  a  charge  which  involved  an  unpar- 
donable sin.  They  were  not,  indeed,  conscious  of  its  full 
guilt,  —  they  said  it  merely  from  the  impulse  of  excited 
and  envious  feeling,  —  but  he  warns  them  that  in  the  day 
of  judgment  God  will  hold  them  accountable  for  the  full 
consequences  of  all  such  language,  however  little  they  may 
have  thought  of  it  at  the  time  of  uttering  it.  The  sense 
of  the  passage  I  take  to  be,  '  God  will  hold  you  responsible 
in  the  day  of  judgment  for  the  consequences  of  all  you 
have  said  in  your  most  idle  and  thoughtless  moments. '  " 

"For  example,"  said  Helen,  "if  one  makes  unguarded 
and  unfounded  assertions  about  the  Bible,  which  excite 
doubt  and  prejudice." 

"There  are  many  instances,"  said  her  uncle,  "that  are 
quite  in  point.  Suppose  in  conversation,  either  under  the 
influence  of  envy  or  ill  will,  or  merely  from  love  of  talk- 
ing, you  make  remarks  and  statements  about  another  per- 
son which  may  be  true  or  may  not,  —  you  do  not  stop  to 
inquire,  — your  unguarded  words  set  reports  in  motion, 
and  unhappiness,  and  hard  feeling,  and  loss  of  character 
are  the  result.  You  spoke  idly,  it  is  true,  but  neverthe- 
less you  are  held  responsible  by  God  for  all  the  conse- 
quences of  your  words.  So  professors  of  religion  often 
make  unguarded  remarks  about  each  other,  which  lead 
observers  to  doubt  the  truth  of  all  religion;  and  they  are 
responsible  for  every  such  doubt  they  excite.  Parents  and 
guardians  often  allow  themselves  to  speak  of  the  faults  and 
weaknesses  of  their  ministers  in  the  presenee  of  children 
and  younger  people  —  they  do  it  thoughtlessly  —  but  in  so 


256       CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION 

doing  they  destroy  an  influence  which  might  otherwise 
have  saved  the  souls  of  their  children ;  they  are  responsi- 
ble for  it.  People  of  cultivated  minds  and  fastidious  taste 
often  allow  themselves  to  come  home  from  church,  and 
criticise  a  sermon,  and  unfold  all  its  weak  points  in  the 
presence  of  others  on  whom  it  may  have  made  a  very  seri- 
ous impression.  While  the  critic  is  holding  up  the  bad 
arrangement,  and  setting  in  a  ludicrous  point  of  view  the 
lame  figures,  perhaps  the  servant  behind  his  chair,  who 
was  almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian  by  that  very  dis- 
course, gives  up  his  purposes,  in  losing  his  respect  for  the 
sermon ;  this  was  thoughtless  —  but  the  evil  is  done,  and 
the  man  who  did  it  is  responsible  for  it." 

"I  think,"  said  Helen,  "that  a  great  deal  of  evil  is 
done  to  children  in  this  way,  by  our  not  thinking  of  what 
we  are  saying." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  B.,  "that  this  view  of  the 
subject  will  reduce  us  to  silence  almost  as  much  as  the 
other.  How  is  one  ever  to  estimate  the  consequences  of 
their  words  ?  —  people  are  affected  in  so  many  different 
ways  by  the  same  thing." 

"I  suppose,"  said  her  uncle,  "we  are  only  responsible 
for  such  results  as  by  carefulness  and  reflection  we  might 
have  foreseen.  It  is  not  for  ill-judged  words,  but  for  idle 
words,  that  we  are  to  be  judged  —  words  uttered  without 
any  consideration  at  all,  and  producing  bad  results.  If  a 
person  really  anxious  to  do  right  misjudges  as  to  the  pro- 
bable effect  of  what  he  is  about  to  say  on  others,  it  is  quite 
another  thing." 

"  But,  uncle,  will  not  such  carefulness  destroy  all  free- 
dom in  conversation  1  "  said  Helen. 

"If  you  are  talking  with  a  beloved  friend,  Helen,  do 
you  not  use  an  instinctive  care  to  avoid  all  that  might  pain 
that  friend  ? " 

"Certainly." 


CONVERSATION  ON  CONVERSATION       257 

"And  do  you  find  this  effort  a  restraint  on  your  enjoy- 
ment?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"And  you,  from  your  own  feelings,  avoid  what  is  in- 
delicate and  impure  in  conversation,  and  yet  feel  it  no 
restraint  1 " 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  I  suppose  the  object  of  Christian  effort  should 
be  so  to  realize  the  character  of  our  Saviour,  and  conform 
our  tastes  and  sympathies  to  his,  that  we  shall  instinctively 
avoid  all  in  our  conversation  that  would  be  displeasing  to 
him.  A  person  habitually  indulging  jealous,  angry,  or 
revengeful  feeling,  a  person  habitually  worldly  in  his  spirit, 
a  person  allowing  himself  in  skeptical  and  unsettled  habits 
of  thought,  cannot  talk  without  doing  harm.  This  is  our 
Saviour's  account  of  the  matter  in  the  verses  immediately 
before  the  passage  we  were  speaking  of  —  '  How  can  ye, 
being  evil,  speak  good  things  ?  for  out  of  the  abundance 
of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh.  A  good  man  out  of  the 
good  treasure  of  his  heart  bringeth  forth  good  things,  and 
an  evil  man  out  of  the  evil  treasure  of  his  heart  bringeth 
forth  evil  things.'  The  highest  flow  of  animal  spirits 
would  never  hurry  a  pure-minded  person  to  say  anything 
indelicate  or  gross;  and  in  the  same  manner,  if  a  person 
is  habitually  Christian  in  all  his  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling,  he  will  be  able  without  irksome  watchfulness  to 
avoid  what  may  be  injurious  even  in  the  most  unrestrained 
conversation." 


HOW  DO   WE   KNOW 

IT  was  a  splendid  room.  Rich  curtains  swept  down  to 
the  floor  in  graceful  folds,  half  excluding  the  light,  and 
shedding  it  in  soft  hues  over  the  fine  old  paintings  on  the 
walls,  and  over  the  hroad  mirrors  that  reflect  all  that  taste 
can  accomplish  by  the  hand  of  wealth.  Books,  the  rarest 
and  most  costly,  were  around,  in  every  form  of  gorgeous 
binding  and  gilding,  and  among  them,  glittering  in  orna- 
ment, lay  a  magnificent  Bible  —  a  Bible  too  beautiful  in 
its  appointments,  too  showy,  too  ornamental,  ever  to  have 
been  meant  to  be  read  —  a  Bible  which  every  visitor  should 
take  up  and  exclaim,  "What  a  beautiful  edition!  what 
superb  bindings !  "  and  then  lay  it  down  again. 

And  the  master  of  the  house  was  lounging  on  a  sofa, 
looking  over  a  late  review  —  for  he  was  a  man  of  leisure, 
taste,  and  reading  —  but,  then,  as  to  reading  the  Bible !  — 
that  forms,  we  suppose,  no  part  of  the  pretensions  of  a 
man  of  letters.  The  Bible  —  certainly  he  considered  it  a 
very  respectable  book  —  a  fine  specimen  of  ancient  litera- 
ture—  an  admirable  book  of  moral  precepts;  but,  then,  as 
to  its  divine  origin,  he  had  not  exactly  made  up  his  mind: 
some  parts  appeared  strange  and  inconsistent  to  his  reason 
—  others  were  revolting  to  his  taste:  true,  he  had  never 
studied  it  very  attentively,  yet  such  was  his  general  im- 
pression about  it;  but,  on  the  whole,  he  thought  it  well 
enough  to  keep  an  elegant  copy  of  it  on  his  drawing-room 
table. 

So  much  for  one  picture.      Now  for  another. 

Come  with  us  into  this  little  dark  alley,  and  up  a  flight 


HOW  DO  WE   KNOW  259 

of  ruinous  stairs.  It  is  a  bitter  night,  and  the  wind  and 
snow  might  drive  through  the  crevices  of  the  poor  room, 
were  it  not  that  careful  hands  have  stopped  them  with 
paper  or  cloth.  But  for  all  this  carefulness,  the  room  is 
bitter  cold  —  cold  even  with  those  few  decaying  brands  on 
the  hearth,  which  that  sorrowful  woman  is  trying  to  kindle 
with  her  breath.  Do  you  see  that  pale,  little,  thin  girl, 
with  large,  bright  eyes,  who  is  crouching  so  near  her 
mother  1  —  hark !  —  how  she  coughs.  Now  listen. 

"Mary,  my  dear  child,"  says  the  mother,  "do  keep  that 
shawl  close  about  you;  you  are  cold,  I  know,7'  and  the 
woman  shivers  as  she  speaks. 

"No,  mother,  not  very,"  replies  the  child,  again  relaps- 
ing into  that  hollow,  ominous  cough.  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  make  me  always  wear  your  shawl  when  it  is 
cold,  mother." 

"Dear  child,  you  need  it  most.  How  you  cough  to- 
night! "  replies  the  mother;  "it  really  don't  seem  right  for 
me  to  send  you  up  that  long,  cold  street;  now  your  shoes 
have  grown  so  poor,  too;  I  must  go  myself  after  this." 

"  Oh,  mother,  you  must  stay  with  the  baby  —  what  if  he 
should  have  one  of  those  dreadful  fits  while  you  are  gone! 
No,  I  can  go  very  well ;  I  have  got  used  to  the  cold  now. " 

"But,  mother,  I'm  cold,"  says  a  little  voice  from  the 
scanty  bed  in  the  corner;  "mayn't  I  get  up  and  come  to 
the  fire  1  " 

"Dear  child,  it  would  not  warm  you;  it  is  very  cold 
here,  and  I  can't  make  any  more  fire  to-night." 

"Why  can't  you,  mother?  There  are  four  whole  sticks 
of  wood  in  the  box;  do  put  one  on,  and  let's  get  warm 
once. " 

"No,  my  dear  little  Henry,"  says  the  mother  sooth- 
ingly, "that  is  all  the  wood  mother  has,  and  I  haven't 
any  money  to  get  more." 

And   now   wakens    the   sick   baby   in    the    cradle,    and 


260  HOW  DO  WE   KNOW 

mother  and  daughter  are  both  for  some  time  busy  in 
attempting  to  supply  its  little  wants,  and  lulling  it  again 
to  sleep. 

And  now  look  you  well  at  that  mother.  Six  months 
ago  she  had  a  husband,  whose  earnings  procured  for  her 
both  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life;  her  children  were 
clothed,  fed,  and  schooled,  without  thoughts  of  hers.  But 
husbandless,  friendless,  and  alone  in  the  heart  of  a  great, 
busy  city,  with  feeble  health,  and  only  the  precarious 
resource  of  her  needle,  she  has  gone  down  from  comfort  to 
extreme  poverty.  Look  at  her  now,  as  she  is  to-night. 
She  knows  full  well  that  the  pale,  bright- eyed  girl,  whose 
hollow  cough  constantly  rings  in  her  ears,  is  far  from  well. 
She  knows  that  cold,  and  hunger,  and  exposure  of  every 
kind,  are  daily  and  surely  wearing  away  her  life.  And 
yet  what  can  she  do?  Poor  soul!  how  many  times  has 
she  calculated  all  her  little  resources,  to  see  if  she  could 
pay  a  doctor  and  get  medicine  for  Mary  —  yet  all  in  vain. 
She  knows  that  timely  medicine,  ease,  fresh  air,  and 
warmth  might  save  her;  but  she  knows  that  all  these 
things  are  out  of  the  question  for  her.  She  feels,  too,  as 
a  mother  would  feel,  when  she  sees  her  once  rosy,  happy 
little  boy  becoming  pale,  and  anxious,  and  fretful;  and 
even  when  he  teases  her  most,  she  only  stops  her  work 
a  moment,  and  strokes  his  little  thin  cheeks,  and  thinks 
what  a  laughing,  happy  little  fellow  he  once  was,  till  she 
has  not  a  heart  to  reprove  him.  And  all  this  day  she  has 
toiled  with  a  sick  and  fretful  baby  in  her  lap,  and  her 
little  shivering,  hungry  boy  at  her  side,  whom  Mary's 
patient  artifices  cannot  always  keep  quiet;  she  has  toiled 
over  the  last  piece  of  work  which  she  can  procure  from  the 
shop,  for  the  man  has  told  her  that  after  this  he  can  fur- 
nish no  more ;  and  the  little  money  that  is  to  come  from 
this  is  already  portioned  out  in  her  own  mind,  and  after 
that  she  has  no  human  prospect  of  support. 


HOW  DO   WE   KNOW  261 

But  yet  that  woman's  face  is  patient,  quiet,  firm.  Nay, 
you  may  even  see  in  her  suffering  eye  something  like 
peace.  And  whence  comes  it?  I  will  tell  you. 

There  is  a  Bible  in  that  room,  as  well  as  in  the  rich 
man's  apartment.  Not  splendidly  bound,  to  be  sure,  but 
faithfully  read  —  a  plain,  homely,  much  worn  book. 

Hearken  now  while  she  says  to  her  children,  "Listen  to 
me,  dear  children,  and  I  will  read  you  something  out  of 
this  book.  *  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled ;  in  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions.'  So  you  see,  my  chil- 
dren, we  shall  not  always  live  in  this  little,  cold,  dark 
room.  Jesus  Christ  has  promised  to  take  us  to  a  better 
home." 

"  Shall  we  be  warm  there  all  day  ? "  says  the  little  boy 
earnestly;  "and  shall  we  have  enough  to  eat?  " 

"Yes,  dear  child,"  says  the  mother;  "listen  to  what 
the  Bible  says :  '  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more;  for  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
throne  shall  feed  them;  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes. ' ? 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  little  Mary,  "for,  mother,  I 
never  can  bear  to  see  you  cry." 

"But,  mother,"  says  little  Henry,  "won't  God  send  us 
something  to  eat  to-morrow  ?  " 

"See,"  says  the  mother,  "what  the  Bible  says:  'Seek 
ye  not  what  ye  shall  eat,  nor  what  ye  shall  drink,  neither 
be  of  anxious  mind.  For  your  Father  knoweth  that  ye 
have  need  of  these  things. '  " 

"But,  mother,"  says  little  Mary,  "if  God  is  our  Father, 
and  loves  us,  what  does  he  let  us  be  so  poor  for  ? " 

"Nay,"  says  the  mother,  "our  dear  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
was  as  poor  as  we  are,  and  God  certainly  loved  him." 

"Was  he,  mother?" 

"Yes,  children;  you  remember  how  he  said,  'The  Son 
of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head. '  And  it  tells  us 


262  HOW  DO  WE   KNOW 

more  than  once  that  Jesus  was  hungry  when  there  was 
none  to  give  him  food." 

"  Oh,  mother,  what  should  we  do  without  the  Bible  ? " 
says  Mary. 

Now,  if  the  rich  man,  who  had  not  yet  made  up  his 
mind  what  to  think  of  the  Bible,  should  visit  this  poor 
woman,  and  ask  her  on  what  she  grounded  her  belief  of 
its  truth,  what  could  she  answer?  Could  she  give  the 
arguments  from  miracles  and  prophecy  ?  Could  she  account 
for  all  the  changes  which  might  have  taken  place  in  it 
through  translators  and  copyists,  and  prove  that  we  have 
a  genuine  and  uncorrupted  version  ?  Not  she !  But  how, 
then,  does  she  know  that  it  is  true?  How,  say  you? 
How  does  she  know  that  she  has  warm  life-blood  in  her 
heart  ?  How  does  she  know  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
air  and  sunshine?  She  does  not  believe  these  things  — 
she  knows  them;  and  in  like  manner,  with  a  deep  heart 
consciousness,  she  is  certain  that  the  words  of  her  Bible 
are  truth  and  life.  Is  it  by  reasoning  that  the  frightened 
child,  bewildered  in  the  dark,  knows  its  mother's  voice? 
No!  Nor  is  it  only  by  reasoning  that  the  forlorn  and 
distressed  human  heart  knows  the  voice  of  its  Saviour,  and 
is  still. 


HOW  TO   MAKE  FEIENDS  WITH   MAMMON 

IT  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a  dull  winter 
day  that  Mr.  H.  sat  in  his  counting-room.  The  sun  had 
nearly  gone  down,  and,  in  fact,  it  was  already  twilight 
beneath  the  shadows  of  the  tall,  dusky  stores,  and  the 
close,  crooked  streets  of  that  quarter  of  Boston.  Hardly 
light  enough  struggled  through  the  dusky  panes  of  the 
counting-house  for  him  to  read  the  entries  in  a  much- 
thumbed  memorandum-book,  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

A  small,  thin  boy,  with  a  pale  face  and  anxious  expres- 
sion, significant  of  delicacy  of  constitution  and  a  too  early 
acquaintance  with  want  and  sorrow,  was  standing  by  him, 
earnestly  watching  his  motions. 

"Ah,  yes,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  H.,  as  he  at  last  shut  up 
the  memorandum-book.  "Yes,  I  ?ve  got  the  place  now; 
I'm  apt  to  be  forgetful  about  these  things;  come,  now, 
let 's  go.  How  is  it?  Have  n't  you  brought  the  basket?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  boy  timidly.  "The  grocer  said 
he  'd  let  mother  have  a  quarter  for  it,  and  she  thought 
she'd  sell  it." 

"That's  bad,"  said  Mr.  H.,  as  he  went  on,  tying  his 
throat  with  a  long  comforter  of  some  yards  in  extent;  and 
as  he  continued  this  operation  he  abstractedly  repeated, 
"That's  bad,  that's  bad,"  till  the  poor  little  boy  looked 
quite  dismayed,  and  began  to  think  that  somehow  his 
mother  had  been  dreadfully  out  of  the  way. 

"She  didn't  want  to  send  for  help  so  long  as  she  had 
anything  she  could  sell,"  said  the  little  boy  in  a  deprecat- 
ing tone. 


264  HOW   TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON 

"Oh  yes,  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  H.,  taking  from  a 
pigeonhole  in  the  desk  a  large  pocketbook,  and  beginning 
to  turn  it  over;  and,  as  before,  abstractedly  repeating, 
"  Quite  right,  quite  right !  "  till  the  little  boy  became  reas- 
sured, and  began  to  think,  although  he  did  n't  know  why, 
that  his  mother  had  done  something  quite  meritorious. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  H.,  after  he  had  taken  several  bills 
from  the  pocketbook  and  transferred  them  to  a  wallet 
which  he  put  into  his  pocket,  "now  we're  ready,  my 
boy."  But  first  he  stopped  to  lock  up  his  desk,  and  then 
he  said  abstractedly  to  himself,  "I  wonder  if  I  hadn't 
better  take  a  few  tracts." 

Now,  it  is  to  be  confessed  that  this  Mr.  H.,  whom  we 
have  introduced  to  our  reader,  was,  in  his  way,  quite  an 
oddity.  He  had  a  number  of  singular  little  penchants 
and  peculiarities  quite  his  own,  such  as  a  passion  for  pok- 
ing about  among  dark  alleys,  at  all  sorts  of  seasonable  and 
unseasonable  hours;  fishing  out  troops  of  dirty,  neglected 
children,  and  fussing  about  generally  in  the  community 
till  he  could  get  them  into  schools  or  otherwise  provided 
for.  He  always  had  in  his  pocketbook  a  note  of  some 
dozen  poor  widows  who  wanted  tea,  sugar,  candles,  or 
other  things  such  as  poor  widows  always  will  be  wanting. 
And  then  he  had  a  most  extraordinary  talent  for  finding 
out  all  the  sick  strangers  that  lay  in  out-of-the-way  upper 
rooms  in  hotels,  who,  everybody  knows,  have  no  business 
to  get  sick  in  such  places,  unless  they  have  money  enough 
to  pay  their  expenses,  which  they  never  do. 

Besides  this,  all  Mr.  H. 's  kinsmen  and  cousins,  to  the 
third,  fourth,  and  fortieth  remove,  were  always  writing 
him  letters,  which,  among  other  pleasing  items,  generally 
contained  the  intelligence  that  a  few  hundred  dollars  were 
just  then  exceedingly  necessary  to  save  them  from  utter 
ruin,  and  they  knew  of  nobody  else  to  whom  to  look  for  it. 

And  then  Mr.  H.  was  up  to  his  throat  in  subscriptions 


HOW  TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON  265 

to  every  charitable  society  that  ever  was  made  or  imagined ; 
had  a  hand  in  building  all  the  churches  within  a  hundred 
miles;  occasionally  gave  four  or  five  thousand  dollars  to 
a  college;  offered  to  be  one  of  six  to  raise  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  some  benevolent  purpose,  and  when  four  of  the 
six  backed  out,  quietly  paid  the  balance  himself,  and  said 
no  more  about  it.  Another  of  his  innocent  fancies  was  to 
keep  always  about  him  any  quantity  of  tracts  and  good 
books,  little  and  big,  for  children  and  grown-up  people, 
which  he  generally  diffused -in  a  kind  of  gentle  shower 
about  him  wherever  he  moved. 

So  great  was  his  monomania  for  benevolence  that  it 
could  not  at  all  confine  itself  to  the  streets  of  Boston,  the 
circle  of  his  relatives,  or  even  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica. Mr.  H.  was  fully  posted  up  in  the  affairs  of  India, 
Burmah,  China,  and  all  those  odd,  out-of-the-way  places, 
which  no  sensible  man  ever  thinks  of  with  any  interest, 
unless  he  can  make  some  money  there;  and  money,  it  is 
to  be  confessed,  Mr.  H.  didn't  make  there,  though  he 
spent  an  abundance.  For  getting  up  printing-presses  in 
Ceylon  for  Chinese  type,  for  boxes  of  clothing  and  what- 
not to  be  sent  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  for  schoolbooks 
for  the  Greeks,  and  all  other  nonsense  of  that  sort,  Mr. 
H.  was  without  a  parallel.  No  wonder  his  rich  brother 
merchants  sometimes  thought  him  something  of  a  bore, 
since,  his  heart  being  full  of  all  these  matters,  he  was 
rather  apt  to  talk  about  them,  and  sometimes  to  endeavor 
to  draw  them  into  fellowship,  to  an  extent  that  was  not  to 
be  thought  of. 

So  it  came  to  pass  often,  that  though  Mr.  H.  was  a 
thriving  business  man,  with  some  ten  thousand  a  year,  he 
often  wore  a  pretty  threadbare  coat,  the  seams  whereof 
would  be  trimmed  with  lines  of  white;  and  he  would 
sometimes  need  several  pretty  plain  hints  on  the  subject 
of  a  new  hat  before  he  woyld  think  he  could  afford  one. 


266  HOW   TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON 

Now,  it  is  to  be  confessed  the  world  is  not  always  grateful 
to  those  who  thus  devote  themselves  to  its  interests;  and 
Mr.  H.  had  as  much  occasion  to  know  this  as  any  other 
man.  People  got  so  used  to  his  giving,  that  his  bounty 
became  as  common  and  as  necessary  as  that  of  a  higher 
Benefactor,  "who  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  upon  the  evil 
and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  upon  the  just  and  the  un- 
just;" and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  people  took  them,  as 
they  do  the  sunshine  and  the  rain,  quite  as  matters  of 
course,  not  thinking  much  about  them  when  they  came, 
but  particularly  apt  to  scold  when  they  did  not  come. 

But  Mr.  H.  never  cared  for  that.  He  did  not  give  for 
gratitude ;  he  did  not  give  for  thanks,  nor  to  have  his 
name  published  in  the  papers  as  one  of  six  who  had  given 
fifty  thousand  to  do  so  and  so;  but  he  gave  because  it  was 
in  him  to  give,  and  we  all  know  that  it  is  an  old  rule  in 
medicine,  as  well  as  morals,  that  what  is  in  a  man  must 
be  brought  out.  Then,  again,  he  had  heard  it  reported 
that  there  had  been  One  of  distinguished  authority  who 
had  expressed  the  opinion  that  it  was  "more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive,"  and  he  very  much  believed  it  — 
believed  it  because  the  One  who  said  it  must  have  known, 
since  for  man's  sake  he  once  gave  away  all. 

And  so,  when  some  thriftless,  distant  relation,  whose 
debts  he  had  paid  a  dozen  times  over,  gave  him  an  over- 
hauling on  the  subject  of  liberality,  and  seemed  inclined 
to  take  him  by  the  throat  for  further  charity,  he  calmed 
himself  down  by  a  chapter  or  two  from  the  New  Testament 
and  half  a  dozen  hymns,  and  then  sent  him  a  good,  bro- 
therly letter  of  admonition  and  counsel,  with  a  bank-note 
to  enforce  it;  and  when  some  querulous  old  woman,  who 
had  had  a  tenement  of  him  rent  free  for  three  or  four 
years,  sent  him  word  that  if  he  didn't  send  and  mend  the 
water-pipes  she  would  move  right  out,  he  sent  and  mended 
them.  People  said  that  he  was  foolish,  and  that  it  didn't 


HOW   TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON  267 

do  any  good  to  do  for  ungrateful  people ;  but  Mr.  H.  knew 
that  it  did  him  good.  He  loved  to  do  it,  and  he  thought 
also  on  some  words  that  ran  to  this  effect:  "Do  good  and 
lend,  hoping  for  nothing  again."  He  literally  hoped  for 
nothing  again  in  the  way  of  reward,  either  in  this  world 
or  in  heaven,  heyond  the  present  pleasure  of  the  deed; 
for  he  had  abundant  occasion  to  see  how  favors  are  forgot- 
ten in  this  world;  and  as  for  another,  he  had  in  his  own 
soul  a  standard  of  benevolence  so  high,  so  pure,  so  ethereal, 
that  but  One  of  mortal  birth  ever  reached  it.  He  felt 
that,  do  what  he  might,  he  fell  ever  so  far  below  the  life 
of  that  spotless  One  —  that  his  crown  in  heaven  must  come 
to  him  at  last,  not  as  a  reward,  but  as  a  free,  eternal 
gift. 

But  all  this  while  our  friend  and  his  little  companion 
have  been  pattering  along  the  wet  streets,  in  the  rain  and 
sleet  of  a  bitter  cold  evening,  till  they  stopped  before  a 
grocery.  Here  a  large  cross-handled  basket  was  first 
bought,  and  then  filled  with  sundry  packages  of  tea,  sugar, 
candles,  soap,  starch,  and  various  other  matters;  a  barrel 
of  flour  was  ordered  to  be  sent  after  him  on  a  dray.  Mr. 
H.  next  stopped  at  a  dry  goods  store  and  bought  a  pair  of 
blankets,  with  which  he  loaded  down  the  boy,  who  was 
happy  enough  to  be  so  loaded;  and  then,  turning  grad- 
ually from  the  more  frequented  streets,  the  two  were  soon 
lost  to  view  in  one  of  the  dimmest  alleys  of  the  city. 

The  cheerful  fire  was  blazing  in  his  parlor,  as,  returned 
from  his  long,  wet  walk,  he  was  sitting  by  it  with  his  feet 
comfortably  incased  in  slippers.  The  astral  lamp  was  burn- 
ing brightly  on  the  centre-table,  and  a  group  of  children 
were  around  it,  studying  their  lessons. 

"Papa,"  said  a  little  boy,  "what  does  this  verse  mean? 
It's  in  my  Sunday-school  lesson.  'Make  to  yourselves 
friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  that  when  ye 
fail,  they  may  receive  you  into  everlasting  habitations. '  " 


268  HOW   TO   MAKE   FKIENDS   WITH   MAMMON 

"You  ought  to  have  asked  your  teacher,  my  son." 

"But  he  said  he  didn't  know  exactly  what  it  meant. 
He  wanted  me  to  look  this  week  and  see  if  I  could  find 
out." 

Mr.  H.  's  standing  resource  in  all  exegetical  difficulties 
was  Dr.  Scott's  Family  Bible.  Therefore  he  now  got  up, 
and  putting  on  his  spectacles,  walked  to  the  glass  bookcase, 
and  took  down  a  volume  of  that  worthy  commentator,  and 
opening  it,  read  aloud  the  whole  exposition  of  the  passage, 
together  with  the  practical  reflections  upon  it;  and  by  the 
time  he  had  done,  he  found  his  young  auditor  fast  asleep 
in  his  chair. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "this  child  plays  too  hard.  He 
can't  keep  his  eyes  open  evenings.  It 's  time  he  was  in 
bed." 

"I  wasn't  asleep,  pa,"  said  Master  Henry,  starting  up 
with  that  air  of  injured  innocence  with  which  gentlemen 
of  his  age  generally  treat  an  imputation  of  this  kind. 

"Then  can  you  tell  me  now  what  the  passage  means 
that  I  have  been  reading  to  you  ? " 

"There's  so  much  of  it,"  said  Henry  hopelessly,  "I 
wish  you  'd  just  tell  me  in  short  order,  father." 

"Oh,  read  it  for  yourself,"  said  Mr.  H.,  as  he  pushed 
the  book  towards  the  boy,  for  it  was  to  be  confessed  that 
he  perceived  at  this  moment  that  he  had  not  himself  re- 
ceived any  particularly  luminous  impression,  though  of 
course  he  thought  it  was  owing  to  his  own  want  of  com- 
prehension. 

Mr.  H.  leaned  back  in  his  rocking-chair,  and  on  his 
own  private  account  began  to  speculate  a  little  as  to  what 
he  really  should  think  the  verse  might  mean,  supposing  he 
were  at  all  competent  to  decide  upon  it.  " '  Make  to  your- 
selves friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness, '  "  says 
he:  "that's  money,  very  clearly.  How  am  I  to  make 
friends  with  it  or  of  it?  Receive  me  into  everlasting 


HOW   TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON  269 

habitations:  that 's  a  singular  kind  of  expression.  I  won- 
der what  it  means.  Dr.  Scott  makes  some  very  good 
remarks  about  it  —  but  somehow  I'm  not  exactly  clear." 
It  must  be  remarked  that  this  was  not  an  uncommon  result 
of  Mr.  H.'s  critical  investigations  in  this  quarter. 

Well,  thoughts  will  wander;  and  as  he  lay  with  his 
head  on  the  back  of  his  rocking-chair,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  flickering  blaze  of  the  coal,  visions  of  his  wet  tramp 
in  the  city,  and  of  the  lonely  garret  he  had  been  visiting, 
and  of  the  poor  woman  with  the  pale,  discouraged  face, 
to  whom  he  had  carried  warmth  and  comfort,  all  blended 
themselves  together.  He  felt,  too,  a  little  indefinite  creep- 
ing chill,  and  some  uneasy  sensations  in  his  head  like  a 
commencing  cold,  for  he  was  not  a  strong  man,  and  it  is 
probable  his  long,  wet  walk  was  likely  to  cause  him  some 
inconvenience  in  this  way.  At  last  he  was  fast  asleep, 
nodding  in  his  chair. 

He  dreamed  that  he  was  very  sick  in  bed,  that  the 
doctor  came  and  went,  and  that  he  grew  sicker  and  sicker. 
He  was  going  to  die.  He  saw  his  wife  sitting  weeping 
by  his  pillow  —  his  children  standing  by  with  pale  and 
frightened  faces;  all  things  in  his  room  began  to  swim, 
and  waver,  and  fade,  and  voices  that  called  his  name,  and 
sobs  and  lamentations  that  rose  around  him,  seemed  far 
off  and  distant  in  his  ear.  "Oh,  eternity,  eternity!  I 
am  going  —  I  am  going,"  he  thought;  and  in  that  hour, 
strange  to  tell,  not  one  of  all  his  good  deeds  seemed  good 
enough  to  lean  on  —  all  bore  some  taint  or  tinge,  to  his 
purified  eye,  of  mortal  selfishness,  and  seemed  unholy 
before  the  All  Pure.  "I  am  going,"  he  thought;  "there 
is  no  time  to  stay,  no  time  to  alter,  to  balance  accounts; 
and  I  know  not  what  I  am,  but  I  know,  0  Jesus,  what 
thou  art.  I  have  trusted  in  thee,  and  shall  never  be 
confounded ; "  and  with  that  last  breath  of  prayer  earth 
was  past. 


270  HOW   TO   MAKE   FEIENDS   WITH   MAMMON 

A  soft  and  solemn  breathing,  as  of  music,  awakened 
him.  As  an  infant  child  not  yet  fully  awake  hears  the 
holy  warblings  of  his  mother's  hymn,  and  smiles  half 
conscious,  so  the  heaven-born  became  aware  of  sweet  voices 
and  loving  faces  around  him  ere  yet  he  fully  woke  to  the 
new  immortal  Life. 

"Ah,  he  has  come  at  last.  How  long  we  have  waited 
for  him !  Here  he  is  among  us.  Now  forever  welcome ! 
welcome !  "  said  the  voices. 

Who  shall  speak  the  joy  of  that  latest  birth,  the  birth 
from  death  to  life !  the  sweet,  calm,  inbreathing  conscious- 
ness of  purity  and  rest,  the  certainty  that  all  sin,  all  weak- 
ness and  error,  are  at  last  gone  forever;  the  deep,  immor- 
tal rapture  of  repose  —  felt  to  be  but  begun  —  never  to 
end! 

So  the  eyes  of  the  heaven-born  opened  on  the  new 
heaven  and  the  new  earth,  and  wondered  at  the  crowd  of 
loving  faces  that  thronged  about  him.  Fair,  godlike  forms 
of  beauty,  such  as  earth  never  knew,  pressed  round  him 
with  blessings,  thanks,  and  welcome. 

The  man  spoke  not,  but  he  wondered  in  his  heart  who 
they  were,  and  whence  it  came  that  they  knew  him;  and 
as  soon  as  the  inquiry  formed  itself  in  his  soul,  it  was 
read  at  once  by  his  heavenly  friends.  "I,"  said  one  bright 
spirit,  "was  a  poor  boy  whom  you  found  in  the  streets: 
you  sought  me  out,  you  sent  me  to  school,  you  watched 
over  me,  and  led  me  to  the  house  of  God;  and  now  here 
I  am."  "And  we,"  said  other  voices,  "are  other  neglected 
children  whom  you  redeemed;  we  also  thank  you."  "And 
I,"  said  another,  "was  a  lost,  helpless  girl:  sold  to  sin 
and  shame,  nobody  thought  I  could  be  saved;  everybody 
passed  me  by  till  you  came.  You  built  a  home,  a  refuge 
for  such  poor  wretches  as  I,  and  there  I  and  many  like  me 
heard  of  Jesus;  and  here  we  are."  "And  I,"  said  an- 
other, "was  once  a  clerk  in  your  store.  I  came  to  the 


HOW   TO   MAKE  FRIENDS  WITH  MAMMON  271 

city  innocent,  but  I  was  betrayed  by  the  tempter.  I 
forgot  my  mother,  and  my  mother's  God.  I  went  to  the 
gaming-table  and  the  theatre,  and  at  last  I  robbed  your 
drawer.  You  might  have  justly  cast  me  off;  but  you  bore 
with  me,  you  watched  over  me,  you  saved  me.  I  am  here 
through  you  this  day."  "And  I,"  said  another,  "was  a 
poor  slave  girl  —  doomed  to  be  sold  on  the  auction- block 
to  a  life  of  infamy,  and  the  ruin  of  soul  and  body.  Had 
you  not  been  willing  to  give  so  largely  for  my  ransom,  no 
one  had  thought  to  buy  me.  You  stimulated  others  to 
give,  and  I  was  redeemed.  I  lived  a  Christian  mother  to 
bring  my  children  up  for  Christ  —  they  are  all  here  with 
me  to  bless  you  this  day,  and  their  children  on  earth,  and 
their  children's  children  are  growing  up  to  bless  you." 
"And  I,"  said  another,  "was  an  unbeliever.  In  the  pride 
of  my  intellect,  I  thought  I  could  demonstrate  the  absurd- 
ity of  Christianity.  I  thought  I  could  answer  the  argu- 
ment from  miracles  and  prophecy ;  but  your  patient,  self- 
denying  life  was  an  argument  I  never  could  answer. 
When  I  saw  you  spending  all  your  time  and  all  your 
money  in  efforts  for  your  fellow  men,  undiscouraged  by 
ingratitude,  and  careless  of  praise,  then  I  thought,  '  There 
is  something  divine  in  that  man's  life,'  and  that  thought 
brought  me  here." 

The  man  looked  around  on  the  gathering  congregation, 
and  he  saw  that  there  was  no  one  whom  he  had  drawn 
heavenward  that  had  not  also  drawn  thither  myriads  of 
others.  In  his  lifetime  he  had  been  scattering  seeds  of 
good  around  from  hour  to  hour,  almost  unconsciously;  and 
now  he  saw  every  seed  springing  up  into  a  widening  forest 
of  immortal  beauty  and  glory.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
there  was  to  be  no  end  of  the  numbers  that  flocked  to 
claim  him  as  their  long-expected  soul  friend.  His  heart 
was  full,  and  his  face  became  as  that  of  an  angel  as  he 
looked  up  to  One  who  seemed  nearer  than  all,  and  said, 


272  HOW   TO   MAKE   FRIENDS   WITH   MAMMON 

"This  is  thy  love  for  me,  unworthy,    0  Jesus.      Of  thee, 
and  to  thee,  and  through  thee  are  all  things.      Amen." 

Amen !  as  with  chorus  of  many  waters  and  mighty  thun- 
derings  the  sound  swept  onward,  arid  died  far  off  in  chim- 
ing echoes  among  the  distant  stars,  and  the  man  awoke. 


THE   SABBATH 

SKETCHES    FROM    A    NOTE-BOOK    OF    AN    ELDERLY 
GENTLEMAN 

THE  Puritan  Sabbath  —  is  there  such  a  thing  existing 
now,  or  has  it  gone  with  the  things  that  were,  to  be  looked 
at  as  a  curiosity  in  the  museum  of  the  past?  Can  any 
one,  in  memory,  take  himself  back  to  the  unbroken  still- 
ness of  that  day,  and  recall  the  sense  of  religious  awe 
which  seemed  to  brood  in  the  very  atmosphere,  checking 
the  merry  laugh  of  childhood,  and  chaining  in  unwonted 
stillness  the  tongue  of  volatile  youth,  and  imparting  even 
to  the  sunshine  of  heaven,  and  the  unconscious  notes  of 
animals,  a  tone  of  its  own  gravity  and  repose?  If  you 
cannot  remember  these  things,  go  back  with  me  to  the 
verge  of  early  boyhood,  and  live  with  me  one  of  the  Sab- 
baths that  I  have  spent  beneath  the  roof  of  my  uncle, 
Phineas  Fletcher. 

Imagine  the  long  sunny  hours  of  a  Saturday  afternoon 
insensibly  slipping  away,  as  we  youngsters  are  exploring 
the  length  and  breadth  of  a  trout  stream,  or  chasing  gray 
squirrels,  or  building  mud  milldams  in  the  brook.  The 
sun  sinks  lower  and  lower,  but  we  still  think  it  does  not 
want  half  an  hour  to  sundown.  At  last,  he  so  evidently 
is  really  going  down,  that  there  is  no  room  for  skepticism 
or  latitude  of  opinion  on  the  subject;  and  with  many  a 
lingering  regret,  we  began  to  put  away  our  fish-hooks,  and 
hang  our  hoops  over  our  arm,  preparatory  to  trudging 
homeward. 


274  THE   SABBATH 

"Oh,  Henry,  don't  you  wish  that  Saturday  afternoons 
lasted  longer  ? "  said  little  John  to  me. 

"I  do,"  says  Cousin  Bill,  who  was  never  the  boy  to 
mince  matters  in  giving  his  sentiments;  "and  I  wouldn't 
care  if  Sunday  didn't  come  but  once  a  year." 

"Oh,  Bill,  that's  wicked,  I'm  afraid,"  says  little  con- 
scientious Susan,  who,  with  her  doll  in  hand,  was  coming 
home  from  a  Saturday  afternoon  visit. 

"Can't  help  it,"  says  Bill,  catching  Susan's  bag,  and 
tossing  it  in  the  air;  "I  never  did  like  to  sit  still,  and 
that 's  why  I  hate  Sundays." 

"Hate  Sundays!  Oh,  Bill!  Why,  Aunt  Kezzy  says 
heaven  is  an  eternal  Sabbath  —  only  think  of  that !  " 

"Well,  I  know  I  must  be  pretty  different  from  what  I 
am  now  before  I  could  sit  still  forever,"  said  Bill  in  a 
lower  and  somewhat  disconcerted  tone,  as  if  admitting  the 
force  of  the  consideration. 

The  rest  of  us  began  to  look  very  grave,  and  to  think 
that  we  must  get  to  liking  Sunday  some  time  or  other,  or 
it  would  be  a  very  bad  thing  for  us.  As  we  drew  near  the 
dwelling,  the  compact  and  businesslike  form  of  Aunt  Kezzy 
was  seen  emerging  from  the  house  to  hasten  our  approach. 

"How  often  have  I  told  you,  young  ones,  not  to  stay 
out  after  sundown  on  Saturday  night?  Don't  you  know 
it 's  the  same  as  Sunday,  you  wicked  children,  you  1 
Come  right  into  the  house,  every  one  of  you,  and  never 
let  me  hear  of  such  a  thing  again." 

This  was  Aunt  Kezzy 's  regular  exordium  every  Satur- 
day night;  for  we  children,  being  blinded,  as  she  sup- 
posed, by  natural  depravity,  always  made  strange  mistakes 
in  reckoning  time  on  Saturday  afternoons.  After  being 
duly  suppered  and  scrubbed,  we  were  enjoined  to  go  to 
bed,  and  remember  that  to-morrow  was  Sunday,  and  that 
we  must  not  laugh  and  play  in  the  morning.  With  many 
a  sorrowful  look  did  Susan  deposit  her  doll  in  the  chest, 


THE   SABBATH  275 

and  give  one  lingering  glance  at  the  patchwork  she  was 
piecing  for  dolly's  bed,  while  William,  John,  and  myself 
emptied  our  pockets  of  all  superfluous  fish-hooks,  bits  of 
twine,  popguns,  slices  of  potato,  marbles,  and  all  the 
various  items  of  boy  property,  which,  to  keep  us  from 
temptation,  were  taken  into  Aunt  Kezzy's  safe-keeping 
over  Sunday. 

My  Uncle  Phineas  was  a  man  of  great  exactness,  and 
Sunday  was  the  centre  of  his  whole  worldly  and  religious 
system.  Everything  with  regard  to  his  worldly  business 
was  so  arranged  that  by  Saturday  noon  it  seemed  to  come 
to  a  close  of  itself.  All  his  accounts  were  looked  over, 
his  workmen  paid,  all  borrowed  things  returned,  and  lent 
things  sent  after,  and  every  tool  and  article  belonging  to 
the  farm  was  returned  to  its  own  place  at  exactly  such  an 
hour  every  Saturday  afternoon,  and  an  hour  before  sun- 
down every  item  of  preparation,  even  to  the  blacking  of 
his  Sunday  shoes  and  the  brushing  of  his  Sunday  coat, 
was  entirely  concluded;  and  at  the  going  down  of  the  sun, 
the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath  seemed  to  settle  down  over  the 
whole  dwelling. 

And  now  it  is  Sunday  morning;  and  though  all  without 
is  fragrance,  and  motion,  and  beauty,  the  dewdrops  are 
twinkling,  butterflies  fluttering,  and  merry  birds  caroling 
and  racketing  as  if  they  never  could  sing  loud  or  fast 
enough,  yet  within  there  is  such  a  stillness  that  the  tick  of 
the  tall  mahogany  clock  is  audible  through  the  whole 
house,  and  the  buzz  of  the  blue  flies,  as  they  whiz  along 
up  and  down  the  window-panes,  is  a  distinct  item  of  hear- 
ing. Look  into  the  best  front  room,  and  you  may  see  the 
upright  form  of  my  Uncle  Phineas,  in  his  immaculate 
Sunday  clothes,  with  his  Bible  spread  open  on  the  little 
stand  before  him,  and  even  a  deeper  than  usual  gravity 
settling  down  over  his  toil-worn  features.  Alongside,  in 
well-brushed  Sunday  clothes,  with  clean  faces  and  smooth 


276  THE   SABBATH 

hair,  sat  the  whole  of  us  younger  people,  each  drawn  up 
in  a  chair,  with  hat  and  handkerchief,  ready  for  the  first 
stroke  of  the  bell,  while  Aunt  Kezzy,  all  trimmed,  and 
primmed,  and  made  ready  for  meeting,  sat  reading  her 
psalm-book,  only  looking  up  occasionally  to  give  an  addi- 
tional jerk  to  some  shirt-collar,  or  the  fifteenth  pull  to 
Susan's  frock,  or  to  repress  any  straggling  looks  that  might 
be  wandering  about,  "beholding  vanity." 

A  stranger,  in  glancing  at  Uncle  Phineas  as  he  sat  intent 
on  his  Sunday  reading,  might  have  seen  that  the  Sabbath 
was  in  his  heart  —  there  was  no  mistake  about  it.  It  was 
plain  that  he  had  put  by  all  worldly  thoughts  when  he 
shut  up  his  account-book,  and  that  his  mind  was  as  free 
from  every  earthly  association  as  his  Sunday  coat  was  from 
dust.  The  slave  of  worldliness,  who  is  driven,  by  per- 
plexing business  or  adventurous  speculation,  through  the 
hours  of  a  half-kept  Sabbath  to  the  fatigues  of  another 
week,  might  envy  the  unbroken  quiet,  the  sunny  tranquil- 
lity, which  hallowed  the  weekly  rest  of  my  uncle. 

The  Sabbath  of  the  Puritan  Christian  was  the  golden 
day,  and  all  its  associations,  and  all  its  thoughts,  words, 
and  deeds,  were  so  entirely  distinct  from  the  ordinary 
material  of  life,  that  it  was  to  him  a  sort  of  weekly  trans- 
lation—  a  quitting  of  this  world  to  sojourn  a  day  in  a 
better;  and  year  after  year,  as  each  Sabbath  set  its  seal 
on  the  completed  labors  of  a  week,  the  pilgrim  felt  that 
one  more  stage  of  his  earthly  journey  was  completed,  and 
that  he  was  one  week  nearer  to  his  eternal  rest.  And  as 
years,  with  their  changes,  came  on,  and  the  strong  man 
grew  old,  and  missed,  one  after  another,  familiar  forms  that 
had  risen  around  his  earlier  years,  the  face  of  the  Sabbath 
became  like  that  of  an  old  and  tried  friend,  carrying  him 
back  to  the  scenes  of  his  youth,  and  connecting  him  with 
scenes  long  gone  by,  restoring  to  him  the  dew  and  fresh- 
ness of  brighter  and  more  buoyant  days. 


THE   SABBATH  277 

Viewed  simply  -as  an  institution  for  a  Christian  and 
mature  mind,  nothing  could  be  more  perfect  than  the  Puri- 
tan Sabbath:  if  it  had  any  failing,  it  was  in  the  want  of 
adaptation  to  children,  and  to  those  not  interested  in  its 
peculiar  duties.  If  you  had  been  in  the  dwelling  of  my 
uncle  of  a  Sabbath  morning,  you  must  have  found  the 
unbroken  stillness  delightful;  the  calm  and  quiet  must 
have  soothed  and  disposed  you  for  contemplation,  and  the 
evident  appearance  of  single-hearted  devotion  to  the  duties 
of  the  day  in  the  elder  part  of  the  family  must  have  been 
a  striking  addition  to  the  picture.  But,  then,  if  your  eye 
had  watched  attentively  the  motions  of  us  juveniles,  you 
might  have  seen  that  what  was  so  very  invigorating  to  the 
disciplined  Christian  was  a  weariness  to  young  flesh  and 
bones.  Then  there  was  not,  as  now,  the  intellectual  relax- 
ation afforded  by  the  Sunday-school,  with  its  various  forms 
of  religious  exercise,  its  thousand  modes  of  interesting  and 
useful  information.  Our  whole  stock  in  this  line  was  the 
Bible  and  Primer,  and  these  were  our  main  dependence 
for  whiling  away  the  tedious  hours  between  our  early 
breakfast  and  the  signal  for  meeting.  How  often  was  our 
invention  stretched  to  find  wherewithal  to  keep  up  our 
stock  of  excitement  in  a  line  with  the  duties  of  the  day ! 
For  the  first  half  hour,  perhaps,  a  story  in  the  Bible  an- 
swered our  purpose  very  well;  but,  having  dispatched  the 
history  of  Joseph,  or  the  story  of  the  ten  plagues,  we  then 
took  to  the  Primer:  and  then  there  was,  first,  the  looking 
over  the  system  of  theological  and  ethical  teaching,  com- 
mencing, "In  Adam's  fall  we  sinned  all,"  and  extending 
through  three  or  four  pages  of  pictorial  and  poetic  embel- 
lishment. Next  was  the  death  of  John  Rogers,  who  was 
burned  at  Smithfield;  and  for  a  while  we  could  entertain 
ourselves  with  counting  all  his  "nine  children  and  one  at 
the  breast,"  as  in  the  picture  they  stand  in  a  regular  row, 
like  a  pair  of  stairs.  These  being  done,  came  miscella- 


278  THE   SABBATH 

neous  exercises  of  our  own  invention,  such  as  counting  all 
the  psalms  in  the  psalm-book,  backward  and  forward,  to 
and  from  the  Doxology,  or  numbering  the  books  in  the 
Bible,  or  some  other  such  device  as  we  deemed  within  the 
pale  of  religious  employments.  When  all  these  failed, 
and  it  still  wanted  an  hour  of  meeting  time,  we  looked  up 
at  the  ceiling,  and  down  at  the  floor,  and  all  around  into 
every  corner,  to  see  what  we  could  do  next;  and  happy 
was  he  who  could  spy  a  pin  gleaming  in  some  distant 
crack,  and  forthwith  muster  an  occasion  for  getting  down 
to  pick  it  up.  Then  there  was  the  infallible  recollection 
that  we  wanted  a  drink  of  water,  as  an  excuse  to  get  out 
to  the  well;  or  else  we  heard  some  strange  noise  among 
the  chickens,  and  insisted  that  it  was  essential  that  we 
should  see  what  was  the  matter;  or  else  pussy  would  jump 
on  to  the  table,  when  all  of  us  would  spring  to  drive  her 
down;  while  there  was  a  most  assiduous  watching  of  the 
clock  to  see  when  the  first  bell  would  ring.  Happy  was 
it  for  us,  in  the  interim,  if  we  did  not  begin  to  look  at 
each  other  and  make  up  faces,  or  slyly  slip  off  and  on  our 
shoes,  or  some  other  incipient  attempts  at  roguery,  which 
would  gradually  so  undermine  our  gravity  that  there  would 
be  some  sudden  explosion  of  merriment,  whereat  Uncle 
Phineas  would  look  up  and  say,  "Tut,  tut,"  and  Aunt 
Kezzy  would  make  a  speech  about  wicked  children  break- 
ing the  Sabbath  day.  I  remember  once  how  my  Cousin 
Bill  got  into  deep  disgrace  one  Sunday  by  a  roguish  trick. 
He  was  just  about  to  close  his  Bible  with  all  sobriety, 
when  snap  came  a  grasshopper  through  an  open  window, 
and  alighted  in  the  middle  of  the  page.  Bill  instantly 
kidnapped  the  intruder,  for  so  important  an  auxiliary  in 
the  way  of  employment  was  not  to  be  despised.  Presently 
we  children  looked  towards  Bill,  and  there  he  sat,  very 
demurely  reading  his  Bible,  with  the  grasshopper  hanging 
by  one  leg  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  kicking  and 


THE   SABBATH  279 

sprawling,  without  in  the  least  disturbing  Master  William's 
gravity.  We  all  burst  into  an  uproarious  laugh.  But  it 
came  to  be  rather  a  serious  affair  for  Bill,  as  his  good 
father  was  in  the  practice  of  enforcing  truth  and  duty  by 
certain  modes  of  moral  suasion  much  recommended  by 
Solomon,  though  fallen  into  disrepute  at  the  present  day. 

This  morning  picture  may  give  a  good  specimen  of  the 
whole  livelong  Sunday,  which  presented  only  an  alterna- 
tion of  similar  scenes  until  sunset,  when  a  universal  un- 
chaining of  tongues  and  a  general  scamper  proclaimed  that 
the  "sun  was  down." 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  what  was  the  result  of  all  this 
strictness?  Did  it  not  disgust  you  with  the  Sabbath  and 
with  religion?  No,  it  did  not.  It  did  not,  because  it 
was  the  result  of  no  unkindly  feeling,  but  of  consistent 
principle ;  and  consistency  of  principle  is  what  even  chil- 
dren learn  to  appreciate  and  revere.  The  law  of  obedience 
and  of  reverence  for  the  Sabbath  was  constraining  so 
equally  on  the  young  and  the  old,  that  its  claims  came  to 
be  regarded  like  those  immutable  laws  of  nature,  which  no 
one  thinks  of  being  out  of  patience  with,  though  they 
sometimes  bear  hard  on  personal  convenience.  The  effect 
of  the  system  was  to  ingrain  into  our  character  a  veneration 
for  the  Sabbath  which  no  friction  of  after  life  would  ever 
efface.  I  have  lived  to  wander  in  many  climates  and  for- 
eign lands,  where  the  Sabbath  is  an  unknown  name,  or 
where  it  is  only  recognized  by  noisy  mirth;  but  never  has 
the  day  returned  without  bringing  with  it  a  breathing  of 
religious  awe,  and  even  a  yearning  for  the  unbroken  still- 
ness, the  placid  repose,  and  the  simple  devotion  of  the 
Puritan  Sabbath. 

ANOTHER    SCENE 

"How  late  we  are  this  morning!"  said  Mrs.  Eoberts  to 
her  husband,  glancing  hurriedly  at  the  clock,  as  they  were 


280  THE   SABBATH 

sitting  down  to  breakfast  on  a  Sabbath  morning.  "  Keally, 
it  is  a  shame  to  us  to  be  so  late  Sundays.  I  wonder  John 
and  Henry  are  not  up  yet:  Hannah,  did  you  speak  to 
them?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  but  I  could  not  make  them  mind;  they 
said  it  was  Sunday,  and  that  we  always  have  breakfast 
later  Sundays." 

"Well,  it  is  a  shame  to  us,  I  must  say,"  said  Mrs. 
Koberts,  sitting  down  to  the  table.  "I  never  lie  late 
myself  unless  something  in  particular  happens.  Last 
night  I  was  out  very  late,  and  Sabbath  before  last  I  had 
a  bad  headache." 

"Well,  well,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Koberts,  "it  is  not 
worth  while  to  worry  yourself  about  it;  Sunday  is  a  day 
of  rest;  everybody  indulges  a  little  of  a  Sunday  morning, 
it  is  so  very  natural,  you  know;  one's  work  done  up,  one 
feels  like  taking  a  little  rest." 

"Well,  I  must  say  it  was  not  the  way  my  mother 
brought  me  up,"  said  Mrs.  Koberts;  "and  I  really  can't 
feel  it  to  be  right. " 

This  last  part  of  the  discourse  had  been  listened  to  by 
two  sleepy-looking  boys,  who  had,  meanwhile,  taken  their 
seats  at  table  with  that  listless  air  which  is  the  result  of 
late  sleeping. 

"Oh,  by  the  bye,  my  dear,  what  did  you  give  for  those 
hams  Saturday  1 "  said  Mr.  Koberts. 

"Eleven  cents  a  pound,  I  believe,"  replied  Mrs.  Kob- 
erts; "but  Stephens  and  Philips  have  some  much  nicer, 
canvas  and  all,  for  ten  cents.  I  think  we  had  better  get 
our  things  at  Stephens  and  Philips 's  in  future,  my  dear." 

"  Why  1  are  they  much  cheaper  ?  " 

"Oh,  a  great  deal;  but  I  forget  it  is  Sunday.  We 
ought  to  be  thinking  of  other  things.  Boys,  have  you 
looked  over  your  Sunday-school  lesson  ?  " 

"No,  ma'am." 


THE    SABBATH  281 

"Now,  how  strange!  and  here  it  wants  only  half  an 
hour  of  the  time,  and  you  are  not  dressed  either.  Now, 
see  the  bad  effects  of  not  being  up  in  time." 

The  boys  looked  sullen,  and  said  "they  were  up  as  soon 
as  any  one  else  in  the  house." 

"Well,  your  father  and  I  had  some  excuse,  because  we 
were  out  late  last  night;  you  ought  to  have  been  up  full 
three  hours  ago,  and  to  have  been  all  ready,  with  your 
lessons  learned.  Now,  what  do  you  suppose  you  shall 
do?" 

"Oh,  mother,  do  let  us  stay  at  home  this  one  morning; 
we  don't  know  the  lesson,  and  it  won't  do  any  good  for 
us  to  go." 

"No,  indeed,  I  shall  not.  You  must  go  and  get  along 
as  well  as  you  can.  It  is  all  your  own  fault.  Now,  go 
upstairs  and  hurry.  We  shall  not  find  time  for  prayers 
this  morning." 

The  boys  took  themselves  upstairs  to  "hurry,"  as 
directed,  and  soon  one  of  them  called  from  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  "Mother!  mother!  the  buttons  are  off  this  vest; 
so  I  can't  wear  it!"  and  "Mother!  here  is  a  long  rip  in 
my  best  coat !  "  said  another. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  it  before  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Roberts,  coming  upstairs. 

"I  forgot  it,"  said  the  boy. 

"Well,  well,  stand  still;  I  must  catch  it  together  some- 
how, if  it  is  Sunday.  There!  there  is  the  bell!  Stand 
still  a  minute ! "  and  Mrs.  Roberts  plied  needle,  and 
thread,  and  scissors;  "there,  that  will  do  for  to-day. 
Dear  me,  how  confused  everything  is  to-day ! " 

"It  is  always  just  so  Sundays,"  said  John,  flinging  up 
his  book  and  catching  it  again  as  he  ran  downstairs. 

"It  is  always  just  so  Sundays."  These  words  struck 
rather  unpleasantly  on  Mrs.  Roberts's  conscience,  for  some- 
thing told  her  that,  whatever  the  reason  might  be,  it  was 


282  THE   SABBATH 

just  so.  On  Sunday  everything  was  later  and  more  irregu- 
lar than  any  other  day  in  the  week. 

"Hannah,  you  must  boil  that  piece  of  beef  for  dinner 
to-day." 

"I  thought  you  told  me  you  did  not  have  cooking  done 
on  Sunday." 

"No,  I  do  not,  generally.  I  am  very  sorry  Mr.  Roberts 
would  get  that  piece  of  meat  yesterday.  We  did  not  need 
it,  but  here  it  is  on  our  hands;  the  weather  is  too  hot  to 
keep  it.  It  won't  do  to  let  it  spoil;  so  I  must  have  it 
boiled,  for  aught  I  see." 

Hannah  had  lived  four  Sabbaths  with  Mrs.  Roberts, 
and  on  two  of  them  she  had  been  required  to  cook  from 
similar  reasoning.  "  For  once  "  is  apt,  in  such  cases,  to 
become  a  phrase  of  very  extensive  signification. 

"It  really  worries  me  to  have  things  go  on  so  as  they 
do  on  Sundays,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts  to  her  husband.  "I 
never  do  feel  as  if  we  kept  Sunday  as  we  ought." 

"My  dear,  you  have  been  saying  so  ever  since  we  were 
married,  and  I  do  not  see  what  you  are  going  to  do  about 
it.  For  my  part  I  do  not  see  why  we  do  not  do  as  well 
as  people  in  general.  We  do  not  visit,  nor  receive  com- 
pany, nor  read  improper  books.  We  go  to  church,  and 
send  the  children  to  Sunday-school,  and  so  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  is  spent  in  a  religious  way.  Then  out  of 
church  we  have  the  children's  Sunday-school  books,  and 
one  or  two  religious  newspapers.  I  think  that  is  quite 
enough. " 

"But,  somehow,  when  I  was  a  child,  my  mother"  — 
said  Mrs.  Roberts,  hesitating. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  your  mother  must  not  be  considered  an 
exact  pattern  for  these  days.  People  were  too  strict  in 
your  mother's  time;  they  carried  the  thing  too  far,  alto- 
gether; everybody  allows  it  now." 

Mrs.  Roberts  was  silenced,  but  not  satisfied.     A  strict 


THE   SABBATH  283 

religious  education  had  left  just  conscience  enough  on  this 
subject  to  make  her  uneasy. 

These  worthy  people  had  a  sort  of  general  idea  that 
Sunday  ought  to  be  kept,  and  they  intended  to  keep  it; 
but  they  had  never  taken  the  trouble  to  investigate  or 
inquire  as  to  the  most  proper  way,  nor  was  it  so  much  an 
object  of  interest  that  their  weekly  arrangements  were 
planned  with  any  reference  to  it.  Mr.  Roberts  would 
often  engage  in  business  at  the  close  of  the  week,  which 
he  knew  would  so  fatigue  him  that  he  would  be  weary  and 
listless  on  Sunday;  and  Mrs.  Roberts  would  allow  her 
family  cares  to  accumulate  in  the  same  way,  so  that  she 
was  either  wearied  with  efforts  to  accomplish  it  before  the 
Sabbath,  or  perplexed  and  worried  by  rinding  everything 
at  loose  ends  on  that  day.  They  had  the  idea  that  Sun- 
day was  to  be  kept  when  it  was  perfectly  convenient,  and 
did  not  demand  any  sacrifice  of  time  or  money.  But  if 
stopping  to  keep  the  Sabbath  in  a  journey  would  risk  pas- 
sage money  or  a  seat  in  the  stage,  or,  in  housekeeping,  if 
it  would  involve  any  considerable  inconvenience  or  expense, 
it  was  deemed  a  providential  intimation  that  it  was  "a 
work  of  necessity  and  mercy  "  to  attend  to  secular  matters. 
To  their  minds  the  fourth  command  read  thus:  "Remem- 
ber the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy  when  it  comes  conven- 
ient, and  costs  neither  time  nor  money." 

As  to  the  effects  of  this  on  the  children,  there  was  nei- 
ther enough  of  strictness  to  make  them  respect  the  Sabbath, 
nor  of  religious  interest  to  make  them  love  it;  of  course, 
the  little  restraint  there  was  proved  just  enough  to  lead 
them  to  dislike  and  despise  it.  Children  soon  perceive 
the  course  of  their  parents'  feelings,  and  it  was  evident  to 
the  children  of  this  family  that  their  father  and  mother 
generally  found  themselves  hurried  into  the  Sabbath  with 
hearts  and  minds  full  of  this  world,  and  their  conversation 
and  thoughts  were  so  constantly  turning  to  worldly  things, 


284  THE   SABBATH 

and  so  awkwardly  drawn  back  by  a  sense  of  religious  obli- 
gation, that  the  Sabbath  appeared  more  obviously  a  clog 
and  a  fetter  than  it  did  under  the  strictest  regime  of  Puri- 
tan days. 

SKETCH    SECOND 

The  little  quiet  village  of  Camden  stands  under  the 
brow  of  a  rugged  hill  in  one  of  the  most  picturesque  parts 
of  New  England;  and  its  regular,  honest,  and  industrious 
villagers  were  not  a  little  surprised  and  pleased  that  Mr. 
James,  a  rich  man,  and  pleasant-spoken  withal,  had  con- 
cluded to  take  up  his  residence  among  them.  He  brought 
with  him  a  pretty,  genteel  wife,  and  a  group  of  rosy, 
romping,  but  amiable  children;  and  there  was  so  much  of 
good  nature  and  kindness  about  the  manners  of  every 
member  of  the  family,  that  the  whole  neighborhood  were 
prepossessed  in  their  favor.  Mr.  James  was  a  man  of 
somewhat  visionary  and  theoretical  turn  of  mind,  and  very 
much  in  the  habit  of  following  out  his  own  ideas  of  right 
and  wrong,  without  troubling  himself  particularly  as  to 
the  appearance  his  course  might  make  in  the  eyes  of 
others.  He  was  a  supporter  of  the  ordinances  of  religion, 
and  always  ready  to  give  both  time  and  money  to  promote 
any  benevolent  object;  and  though  he  had  never  made 
any  public  profession  of  religion,  or  connected  himself 
with  any  particular  set  of  Christians,  still  he  seemed  to 
possess  great  reverence  for  God,  and  to  worship  him  in 
spirit  and  in  truth,  and  he  professed  to  make  the  Bible 
the  guide  of  his  life.  Mr.  James  had  been  brought  up 
under  a  system  of  injudicious  religious  restraint.  He 
had  determined,  in  educating  his  children,  to  adopt  an 
exactly  opposite  course,  and  to  make  religion  and  all  its 
institutions  sources  of  enjoyment.  His  aim,  doubtless, 
was  an  appropriate  one;  but  his  method  of  carrying  it  out, 
to  say  the  least,  was  one  which  was  not  a  safe  model  for 


THE    SABBATH  285 

general  imitation.  In  regard  to  the  Sabbath,  for  example, 
he  considered  that,  although  the  plan  of  going  to  church 
twice  a  day,  and  keeping  all  the  family  quiet  within  doors 
the  rest  of  the  time,  was  good,  other  methods  would  be 
much  better.  Accordingly,  after  the  morning  service, 
which  he  and  his  whole  family  regularly  attended,  he 
would  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  with  his  children.  In 
bad  weather  he  would  instruct  them  in  natural  history, 
show  them  pictures,  and  read  them  various  accounts  of  the 
works  of  God,  combining  all  with  such  religious  instruction 
and  influence  as  a  devotional  mind  might  furnish.  When 
the  weather  permitted,  he  would  range  with  them  through 
the  fields,  collecting  minerals  and  plants,  or  sail  with  them 
on  the  lake,  meanwhile  directing  the  thoughts  of  his  young 
listeners  upward  to  God,  by  the  many  beautiful  traces  of 
his  presence  and  agency,  which  superior  knowledge  and 
observation  enabled  him  to  discover  and  point  out.  These 
Sunday  strolls  were  seasons  of  most  delightful  enjoyment 
to  the  children.  Though  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that 
their  father  could  restrain  them  from  loud  and  noisy  de- 
monstrations of  delight,  and  he  saw  with  some  regret  that 
the  mere  animal  excitement  of  the  stroll  seemed  to  draw 
the  attention  too  much  from  religious  considerations,  and, 
in  particular,  to  make  the  exercises  of  the  morning  seem 
like  a  preparatory  penance  to  the  enjoyments  of  the  after- 
noon, nevertheless,  when  Mr.  James  looked  back  to  his 
own  boyhood,  and  remembered  the  frigid  restraint,  the 
entire  want  of  any  kind  of  mental  or  bodily  excitement, 
which  had  made  the  Sabbath  so  much  a  weariness  to  him, 
he  could  not  but  congratulate  himself  when  he  perceived 
his  children  looking  forward  to  Sunday  as  a  day  of  delight, 
and  found  himself  on  that  day  continually  surrounded  by 
a  circle  of  smiling  and  cheerful  faces.  His  talent  of  im- 
parting religious  instruction  in  a  simple  and  interesting 
form  was  remarkably  happy,  and  it  is  probable  that  there 


286  THE   SABBATH 

was  among  his  children  an  uncommon  degree  of  real 
thought  and  feeling  on  religious  subjects  as  the  result. 

The  good  people  of  Camden,  however,  knew  not  what 
to  think  of  a  course  that  appeared  to  them  an  entire  viola- 
tion of  all  the  requirements  of  the  Sahbath.  The  first 
impulse  of  human  nature  is  to  condemn  at  once  all  who 
vary  from  what  has  been  commonly  regarded  as  the  right 
way;  and,  accordingly,  Mr.  James  was  unsparingly  de- 
nounced, by  many  good  people,  as  a  Sabbath  breaker,  and 
infidel,  and  an  opposer  to  religion. 

Such  was  the  character  heard  of  him  by  Mr.  Richards, 
a  young  clergyman,  who,  shortly  after  Mr.  James  fixed  his 
residence  in  Camden,  accepted  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
village.  It  happened  that  Mr.  Richards  had  known  Mr. 
James  in  college,  and,  remembering  him  as  a  remarkably  seri- 
ous, amiable,  and  conscientious  man,  he  resolved  to  ascertain 
from  himself  the  views  which  had  led  him  to  the  course  of 
conduct  so  offensive  to  the  good  people  of  the  neighborhood. 

"This  is  all  very  well,  my  good  friend,"  said  he,  after 
he  had  listened  to  Mr.  James's  eloquent  account  of  his 
own  system  of  religious  instruction,  and  its  effects  upon 
his  family,  "I  do  not  doubt  that  this  system  does  very 
well  for  yourself  and  family;  but  there  are  other  things 
to  be  taken  into  consideration  besides  personal  and  family 
improvement.  Do  you  not  know,  Mr.  James,  that  the 
most  worthless  and  careless  part  of  my  congregation  quote 
your  example  as  a  respectable  precedent  for  allowing  their 
families  to  violate  the  order  of  the  Sabbath?  You  and 
your  children  sail  about  on  the  lake,  with  minds  and 
hearts,  I  doubt  not,  elevated  and  tranquilized  by  its  quiet 
repose;  but  Ben  Dakes,  and  his  idle,  profane  army  of 
children,  consider  themselves  as  doing  very  much  the  same 
thing  when  they  lie  lolling  about,  sunning  themselves  on 
its  shore,  or  skipping  stones  over  its  surface  the  whole  of 
a  Sunday  afternoon." 


THE   SABBATH  287 

"Let  every  one  answer  to  his  own  conscience,"  replied 
Mr.  James.  "If  I  keep  the  Sabbath  conscientiously,  I 
am  approved  of  God ;  if  another  transgresses  his  conscience, 
'  to  his  own  master  he  standeth  or  f alleth. '  I  am  not 
responsible  for  all  the  abuses  that  idle  or  evil-disposed 
persons  may  fall  into,  in  consequence  of  my  doing  what  is 
right." 

"  Let  me  quote  an  answer  from  the  same  chapter, "  said 
Mr.  Richards.  " '  Let  no  man  put  a  stumbling-block,  or 
an  occasion  to  fall,  in  his  brother's  way:  let  not  your  good 
be  evil  spoken  of.  It  is  good  neither  to  eat  flesh  nor 
drink  wine,  nor  anything  whereby  thy  brother  stumbleth, 
or  is  offended,  or  made  weak.'  Now,  my  good  friend, 
you  happen  to  be  endowed  with  a  certain  tone  of  mind 
which  enables  you  to  carry  through  your  mode  of  keeping 
the  Sabbath  with  little  comparative  evil,  and  much  good, 
so  far  as  your  family  is  concerned;  but  how  many  persons 
in  this  neighborhood,  do  you  suppose,  would  succeed 
equally  well  if  they  were  to  attempt  it?  If  it  were  the 
common  custom  for  families  to  absent  themselves  from 
public  worship  in  the  afternoon,  and  to  stroll  about  the 
fields,  or  ride,  or  sail,  how  many  parents,  do  you  suppose, 
would  have  the  dexterity  and  talent  to  check  all  that  was 
inconsistent  with  the  duties  of  the  day  1  Is  it  not  your 
ready  command  of  language,  your  uncommon  tact  in  sim- 
plifying and  illustrating,  your  knowledge  of  natural  history 
and  of  Biblical  literature,  that  enable  you  to  accomplish 
the  results  that  you  do?  And  is  there  one  parent  in  a 
hundred  that  could  do  the  same  1  Now,  just  imagine  our 
neighbor,  'Squire  Hart,  with  his  ten  boys  and  girls,  turned 
out  into  the  fields  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  to  profit  withal : 
you  know  he  can  never  finish  a  sentence  without  stopping 
to  begin  it  again  half  a  dozen  times.  What  progress 
would  he  make  in  instructing  them?  And  so  of  a  dozen 
others  I  could  name  along  this  very  street  here.  Now, 


288  THE   SABBATH 

you  men  of  cultivated  minds  must  give  your  countenance 
to  courses  which  would  be  best  for  society  at  large,  or,  as 
the  sentiment  was  expressed  by  St.  Paul,  *  We  that  are 
strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not 
to  please  ourselves,  for  even  Christ  pleased  not  himself. ' 
Think,  my  dear  sir,  if  our  Saviour  had  gone  only  on  the 
principle  of  avoiding  what  might  be  injurious  to  his  own 
improvement,  how  unsafe  his  example  might  have  proved 
to  less  elevated  minds.  Doubtless  he  might  have  made  a 
Sabbath  day  fishing  excursion  an  occasion  of  much  elevated 
and  impressive  instruction;  but,  although  he  declared  him- 
self '  Lord  of  the  Sabbath  day, '  and  at  liberty  to  suspend 
its  obligation  at  his  own  discretion,  yet  he  never  violated 
the  received  method  of  observing  it,  except  in  cases  where 
superstitious  tradition  trenched  directly  on  those  interests 
which  the  Sabbath  was  given  to  promote.  He  asserted 
the  right  to  relieve  pressing  bodily  wants,  and  to  adminis- 
ter to  the  necessities  of  others  on  the  Sabbath,  but  beyond 
that  he  allowed  himself  in  no  deviation  from  established 
custom. " 

Mr.  James  looked  thoughtful.  "I  have  not  reflected 
on  the  subject  in  this  view,"  he  replied.  "But,  my  dear 
sir,  considering  how  little  of  the  public  services  of  the 
Sabbath  is  on  a  level  with  the  capacity  of  younger  chil- 
dren, it  seems  to  me  almost  a  pity  to  take  them  to  church 
the  whole  of  the  day." 

"I  have  thought  of  that  myself,"  replied  Mr.  Richards, 
"and  have  sometimes  thought  that,  could  persons  be  found 
to  conduct  such  a  thing,  it  would  be  desirable  to  institute 
a  separate  service  for  children,  in  which  the  exercises 
should  be  particularly  adapted  to  them." 

"I  should  like  to  be  minister  to  a  congregation  of  chil- 
dren," said  Mr.  James  warmly. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Richards,  "give  our  good  people 
time  to  get  acquainted  with  you,  and  do  away  the  preju- 


THE   SABBATH  289 

dices  which  your  extraordinary  mode  of  proceeding  has 
induced,  and  I  think  I  could  easily  assemble  such  a  com- 
pany for  you  every  Sabbath." 

After  this,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  village,  Mr. 
James  and  his  family  were  regular  attendants  at  both  the 
services  of  the  Sabbath.  Mr.  Richards  explained  to  the 
good  people  of  his  congregation  the  motives  which  had  led 
their  neighbor  to  the  adoption  of  what,  to  them,  seemed 
so  unchristian  a  course;  and,  upon  reflection,  they  came 
to  the  perception  of  the  truth,  that  a  man  may  depart  very 
widely  from  the  received  standard  of  right  for  other  reasons 
than  being  an  infidel  or  an  opposer  of  religion.  A  ready 
return  of  cordial  feeling  was  the  result;  and  as  Mr.  James 
found  himself  treated  with  respect  and  confidence,  he 
began  to  feel,  notwithstanding  his  fastidiousness,  that  there 
were  strong  points  of  congeniality  between  all  real  and 
warm-hearted  Christians,  however  different  might  be  their 
intellectual  culture,  and  in  all  simplicity  united  himself 
with  the  little  church  of  Camden.  A  year  from  the  time 
of  his  first  residence  there,  every  Sabbath  afternoon  saw 
him  surrounded  by  a  congregation  of  young  children,  for 
whose  benefit  he  had,  at  his  own  expense,  provided  a 
room,  fitted  up  with  maps,  Scriptural  pictures,  and  every 
convenience  for  the  illustration  of  Biblical  knowledge;  and 
the  parents  or  guardians  who  from  time  to  time  attended 
their  children  during  these  exercises  often  confessed  them- 
selves as  much  interested  and  benefited  as  any  of  their 
youthful  companions. 

SKETCH    THIRD 

It  was  near  the  close  of  a  pleasant  Saturday  afternoon 
that  I  drew  up  my  weary  horse  in  front  of  a  neat  little 
dwelling  in  the  village  of  N.  This,  as  near  as  I  could 
gather  from  description,  was  the  house  of  my  cousin,  Wil- 
liam Fletcher,  the  identical  rogue  of  a  Bill  Fletcher,  of 


290  THE   SABBATH 

whom  we  have  aforetime  spoken.  Bill  had  always  been 
a  thriving,  push- ahead  sort  of  a  character,  and  during  the 
course  of  my  rambling  life  I  had  improved  every  occasional 
opportunity  of  keeping  up  our  early  acquaintance.  The 
last  time  that  I  returned  to  my  native  country,  after  some 
years  of  absence,  I  heard  of  him  as  married  and  settled  in 
the  village  of  N.,  where  he  was  conducting  a  very  prosper- 
ous course  of  business,  and  shortly  after  received  a  pressing 
invitation  to  visit  him  at  his  own  home.  Now,  as  I  had 
gathered  from  experience  the  fact  that  it  is  of  very  little 
use  to  rap  one's  knuckles  off  on  the  front  door  of  a  country 
house  without  any  knocker,  I  therefore  made  the  best  of 
my  way  along  a  little  path,  bordered  with  marigolds  and 
balsams,  that  led  to  the  back  part  of  the  dwelling.  The 
sound  of  a  number  of  childish  voices  made  me  stop,  and, 
looking  through  the  bushes,  I  saw  the  very  image  of  my 
Cousin  Bill  Fletcher,  as  he  used  to  be  twenty  years  ago; 
the  same  bold  forehead,  the  same  dark  eyes,  the  same 
smart,  saucy  mouth,  and  the  same  "  who-cares-for-that " 
toss  to  his  head.  "  There,  now, "  exclaimed  the  boy,  set- 
ting down  a  pair  of  shoes  that  he  had  been  blacking,  and 
arranging  them  at  the  head  of  a  long  row  of  all  sizes  and 
sorts,  from  those  which  might  have  fitted  a  two-year-old 
foot  upward,  "there,  I've  blacked  every  single  one  of 
them,  and  made  them  shine  too,  and  done  it  all  in  twenty 
minutes;  if  anybody  thinks  they  can  do  it  quicker  than 
that,  I  'd  just  like  to  have  them  try;  that 's  all." 

"I  know  they  couldn't,  though,"  said  a  fair-haired 
little  girl,  who  stood  admiring  the  sight,  evidently  im- 
pressed with  the  utmost  reverence  for  her  brother's  ability; 
"and,  Bill,  I've  been  putting  up  all  the  playthings  in  the 
big  chest,  and  I  want  you  to  come  and  turn  the  lock  — 
the  key  hurts  my  fingers." 

"Poh!  I  can  turn  it  easier  than  that,"  said  the  boy, 
snapping  his  fingers;  "have  you  got  them  all  in? " 


THE   SABBATH  291 

"  Yes,  all ;  only  I  left  out  the  soft  bales,  and  the  string 
of  red  beads,  and  the  great  rag  baby  for  Fanny  to  play 
with  —  you  know  mother  says  babies  must  have  their  play- 
things Sunday." 

"Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  brother  very  considerately; 
"babies  can't  read,  you  know,  as  we  can,  nor  hear  Bible 
stories,  nor  look  at  pictures."  At  this  moment  I  stepped 
forward,  for  the  spell  of  former  times  was  so  powerfully 
on  me,  that  I  was  on  the  very  point  of  springing  forward 
with  a  "Halloo,  there,  Bill! "  as  I  used  to  meet  the  father 
in  old  times;  but  the  look  of  surprise  that  greeted  my 
appearance  brought  me  to  myself. 

"Is  your  father  at  home? "  said  I. 

"Father  and  mother  are  both  gone  out;  but  I  guess,  sir, 
they  will  be  home  in  a  few  moments:  won't  you  walk 
in?" 

I  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the  little  girl  showed  me 
into  a  small  and  very  prettily  furnished  parlor.  There 
was  a  piano  with  music- books  on  one  side  of  the  room, 
some  fine  pictures  hung  about  the  walls,  and  a  little,  neat 
centre-table  was  plentifully  strewn  with  books.  Besides 
this,  the  two  recesses  on  each  side  of  the  fireplace  con- 
tained each  a  bookcase  with  a  glass  locked  door. 

The  little  girl  offered  me  a  chair,  and  then  lingered  a 
moment,  as  if  she  felt  some  disposition  to  entertain  me  if 
she  could  only  think  of  something  to  say;  and  at  last, 
looking  up  in  my  face,  she  said  in  a  confidential  tone, 
"  Mother  says  she  left  Willie  and  me  to  keep  house  this 
afternoon  while  she  was  gone,  and  we  are  putting  up  all 
the  things  for  Sunday,  so  as  to  get  everything  done  before 
she  comes  home.  Willie  has  gone  to  put  away  the  play- 
things, and  I  'm  going  to  put  up  the  books."  So  saying, 
she  opened  the  doors  of  one  of  the  bookcases,  and  began 
busily  carrying  the  books  from  the  centre-table  to  deposit 
them  on  the  shelves,  in  which  employment  she  was  soon 


292  THE   SABBATH 

assisted  by  Willie,  who  took  the  matter  in  hand  in  a  very 
masterly  manner,  showing  his  sister  what  were  and  what 
were  not  "  Sunday  books  "  with  the  air  of  a  person  entirely 
at  home  in  the  business.  "Robinson  Crusoe"  and  the 
many-volumed  Peter  Parley  were  put  by  without  hesi- 
tation; there  was,  however,  a  short  demurring  over  a 
"North  American  Review,"  because  Willie  said  he  was 
sure  his  father  read  something  one  Sunday  out  of  it 
while  Susan  averred  that  he  did  not  commonly  read  in  it, 
and  only  read  in  it  then  because  the  piece  was  something 
about  the  Bible;  but  as  nothing  could  be  settled  defini- 
tively on  the  point,  the  review  was  "laid  on  the  table," 
like  knotty  questions  in  Congress.  Then  followed  a  long 
discussion  over  an  extract  book,  which,  as  usual,  contained 
all  sorts,  both  sacred,  serious,  comic,  and  profane;  and  at 
last  Willie,  with  much  gravity,  decided  to  lock  it  up,  on 
the  principle  that  it  was  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  in 
support  of  which  he  appealed  to  me.  I  was  saved  from 
deciding  the  question  by  the  entrance  of  the  father  and 
mother.  My  old  friend  knew  me  at  once,  and  presented 
his  pretty  wife  to  me  with  the  same  look  of  exultation 
with  which  he  used  to  hold  up  a  string  of  trout  or  an 
uncommonly  fine  perch  of  his  own  catching  for  my  admi- 
ration, and  then  looking  round  on  his  fine  family  of  chil- 
dren, two  more  of  which  he  had  brought  home  with  him, 
seemed  to  say  to  me,  "  There !  what  do  you  think  of  that, 
now?" 

And,  in  truth,  a  very  pretty  sight  it  was  —  enough  to 
make  any  one's  old  bachelor  coat  sit  very  uneasily  on  him. 
Indeed,  there  is  nothing  that  gives  one  such  a  startling 
idea  of  the  tricks  that  old  Father  Time  has  been  playing 
on  us,  as  to  meet  some  boyish  or  girlish  companions  with 
half  a  dozen  or  so  of  thriving  children  about  them.  My 
old  friend,  I  found,  was  in  essence  just  what  the  boy  had 
been.  There  was  the  same  upright  bearing,  the  same  con- 


THE   SABBATH  293 

fident,  cheerful  tone  to  his  voice,  and  the  same  fire  in  his 
eye;  only  that  the  hand  of  manhood  had  slightly  touched 
some  of  the  lines  of  his  face,  giving  them  a  staidness  of 
expression  becoming  the  man  and  the  father. 

"Very  well,  my  children,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  as,  after 
tea,  William  and  Susan  finished  recounting  to  her  the 
various  matters  that  they  had  set  in  order  that  afternoon; 
"I  believe  now  we  can  say  that  our  week's  work  is  fin- 
ished, and  that  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  rest  and  enjoy 
ourselves." 

"  Oh,  and  papa  will  show  us  the  pictures  in  those  great 
books  that  he  brought  home  for  us  last  Monday,  will  he 
not  1 "  said  little  Robert. 

"And,  mother,  you  will  tell  us  some  more  about  Solo- 
mon's temple  and  his  palaces,  won't  you? "  said  Susan. 

"And  I  should  like  to  know  if  father  has  found  out  the 
answer  to  that  hard  question  I  gave  him  last  Sunday  ? " 
said  Willie. 

"All  will  come  in  good  time,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher. 
"But  tell  me,  my  dear  children,  are  you  sure  that  you  are 
quite  ready  for  the  Sabbath  ?  You  say  you  have  put  away 
the  books  and  the  playthings;  have  you  put  away,  too,  all 
wrong  and  unkind  feelings?  Do  you  feel  kindly  and 
pleasantly  towards  everybody  ?  " 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Willie,  who  appeared  to  have  taken 
a  great  part  of  this  speech  to  himself;  "I  went  over  to 
Tom  Walter's  this  very  morning  to  ask  him  about  that 
chicken  of  mine,  and  he  said  that  he  did  not  mean  to  hit 
it,  and  did  not  know  he  had  till  I  told  him  of  it;  and  so 
we  made  all  up  again,  and  I  am  glad  I  went." 

"I  am  inclined  to  think,  Willie,"  said  his  father,  "that 
if  everybody  would  make  it  a  rule  to  settle  up  all  their 
differences  before  Sunday,  there  would  be  very  few  long 
quarrels  and  lawsuits.  In  about  half  the  cases,  a  quarrel 
is  founded  on  some  misunderstanding  that  would  be  got 


294  THE   SABBATH 

over  in  five  minutes  if  one  would  go  directly  to  the  person 
for  explanation." 

"I  suppose  I  need  not  ask  you,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher, 
"  whether  you  have  fully  learned  your  Sunday  -  school 
lessons  ? " 

"Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  William.  "You  know,  mother, 
that  Susan  and  I  were  busy  about  them  through  Monday 
and  Tuesday,  and  then  this  afternoon  we  looked  them  over 
again,  and  wrote  down  some  questions." 

"And  I  heard  Eobert  say  his  all  through,  and  showed 
him  all  the  places  on  the  Bible  Atlas,"  said  Susan. 

"Well,  then,"  said  my  friend,  "if  everything  is  done, 
let  us  begin  Sunday  with  some  music." 

Thanks  to  the  recent  improvements  in  the  musical  in- 
struction of  the  young,  every  family  can  now  form  a 
domestic  concert,  with  words  and  tunes  adapted  to  the 
capacity  and  the  voices  of  children;  and  while  these  little 
ones,  full  of  animation,  pressed  round  their  mother  as  she 
sat  at  the  piano,  and  accompanied  her  music  with  the 
words  of  some  beautiful  hymns,  I  thought  that,  though  I 
might  have  heard  finer  music,  I  had  never  listened  to  any 
that  answered  the  purpose  of  music  so  well. 

It  was  a  custom  at  my  friend's  to  retire  at  an  early  hour 
on  Saturday  evening,  in  order  that  there  might  be  abun- 
dant time  for  rest,  and  no  excuse  for  late  rising  on  the 
iSabbath;  and,  accordingly,  when  the  children  had  done 
singing,  after  a  short  season  of  family  devotion,  we  all 
betook  ourselves  to  our  chambers,  and  I,  for  one,  fell 
asleep  with  the  impression  of  having  finished  the  week 
most  agreeably,  and  with  anticipations  of  very  great  plea- 
sure on  the  morrow. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  was  roused  from  my  sleep  by 
the  sound  of  little  voices  singing  with  great  animation  in 
the  room  next  to  mine,  and,  listening,  I  caught  the  follow- 
ing words :  — 


THE   SABBATH  295 

"Awake  !  awake  !  your  bed  forsake, 

To  God  your  praises  pay  ; 
The  morning  sun  is  clear  and  bright; 
With  joy  we  hail  his  cheerful  light. 
In  songs  of  love 
Praise  God  above  — 
It  is  the  Sabbath  day  !  " 

The  last  words  were  repeated  and  prolonged  most 
vehemently  by  a  voice  that  I  knew  for  Master  William's. 

"Now,  Willie,  I  like  the  other  one  best,"  said  the  soft 
voice  of  little  Susan ;  and  immediately  she  began :  — 

"  How  sweet  is  the  day, 
When,  leaving  our  play, 

The  Saviour  we  seek ! 
The  fair  morning  glows 
When  Jesus  arose  — 

The  best  in  the  week." 

Master  William  helped  along  with  great  spirit  in  the 
singing  of  this  tune,  though  I  heard  him  observing,  at  the 
end  of  the  first  verse,  that  he  liked  the  other  one  better, 
because  "  it  seemed  to  step  off  so  kind  o'  lively ; "  and  his 
accommodating  sister  followed  him  as  he  began  singing  it 
again  with  redoubled  animation. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  morning,  and  the  voices  of 
the  children  within  accorded  well  with  the  notes  of  birds 
and  bleating  flocks  without  —  a  cheerful,  yet  Sabbath-like 
and  quieting  sound. 

"Blessed  be  children's  music!'7  said  I  to  myself;  "how 
much  better  this  is  than  the  solitary  tick,  tick,  of  old 
Uncle  Fletcher's  tall  mahogany  clock!  " 

The  family  bell  summoned  us  to  the  breakfast  room  just 
as  the  children  had  finished  their  hymn.  The  little  break- 
fast parlor  had  been  swept  and  garnished  expressly  for  the 
day,  and  a  vase  of  beautiful  flowers,  which  the  children 
had  the  day  before  collected  from  their  gardens,  adorned 
the  centre-table.  The  door  of  one  of  the  bookcases  by 
the  fireplace  was  thrown  open,  presenting  to  view  a  collec- 
tion of  prettily  bound  books,  over  the  top  of  which 


296  THE   SABBATH 

appeared  in  gilt  letters  the  inscription,  "Sabbath  Library." 
The  windows  were  thrown  open  to  let  in  the  invigorating 
breath  of  the  early  morning,  and  the  birds  that  flitted 
among  the  rose-bushes  without  seemed  scarcely  lighter  and 
more  buoyant  than  did  the  children  as  they  entered  the 
room.  It  was  legibly  written  on  every  face  in  the  house, 
that  the  happiest  day  in  the  week  had  arrived,  and  each 
one  seemed  to  enter  into  its  duties  with  a  whole  soul.  It 
was  still  early  when  the  breakfast  and  the  season  of  family 
devotion  were  over,  and  the  children  eagerly  gathered 
round  the  table  to  get  a  sight  of  the  pictures  in  the  new 
books  which  their  father  had  purchased  in  New  York  the 
week  before,  and  which  had  been  reserved  as  a  Sunday's 
treat.  They  were  a  beautiful  edition  of  Calmet's  Diction- 
ary, in  several  large  volumes,  with  very  superior  engrav- 
ings. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  this  work  must  be  very  expen- 
sive," I  remarked  to  my  friend,  as  we  were  turning  the 
leaves. 

"Indeed  it  is  so,"  he  replied;  "but  here  is  one  place 
where  I  am  less  withheld  by  considerations  of  expense 
than  in  any  other.  In  all  that  concerns  making  a  show  in 
the  world,  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  economize.  I  can  do 
very  well  without  expensive  clothing  or  fashionable  furni- 
ture, and  am  willing  that  we  should  be  looked  on  as  very 
plain  sort  of  people  in  all  such  matters;  but  in  all  that 
relates  to  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and  the  improve- 
ment of  the  hearts  of  my  children,  I  am  willing  to  go  to 
the  extent  of  my  ability.  Whatever  will  give  my  children 
a  better  knowledge  of,  or  deeper  interest  in,  the  Bible,  or 
enable  them  to  spend  a  Sabbath  profitably  and  without 
weariness,  stands  first  on  my  list  among  things  to  be  pur- 
chased. I  have  spent  in  this  way  one  third  as  much  as 
the  furnishing  of  my  house  costs  me."  On  looking  over 
the  shelves  of  the  Sabbath  Library,  I  perceived  that  my 


THE   SABBATH  297 

friend  had  been  at  no  small  pains  in  the  selection.  It 
comprised  all  the  popular  standard  works  for  the  illustra- 
tion of  the  Bible,  together  with  the  best  of  the  modern 
religious  publications  adapted  to  the  capacity  of  young 
children.  Two  large  drawers  below  were  filled  with  maps 
and  Scriptural  engravings,  some  of  them  of  a  very  superior 
character. 

"We  have  been  collecting  these  things  gradually  ever 
since  we  have  been  at  housekeeping,"  said  my  friend; 
"the  children  take  an  interest  in  this  library,  as  something 
more  particularly  belonging  to  them,  and  some  of  the 
books  are  donations  from  their  little  earnings." 

"Yes,"  said  Willie,  "I  bought  Helon's  'Pilgrimage' 
with  my  egg  money,  and  Susan  bought  the  *  Life  of  David, ' 
and  little  Robert  is  going  to  buy  one,  too,  next  New  Year. " 

"But,"  said  I,  "would  not  the  Sunday-school  library 
answer  all  the  purpose  of  this  1 " 

"The  Sabbath-school  library  is  an  admirable  thing," 
said  my  friend;  "but  this  does  more  fully  and  perfectly 
what  that  was  intended  to  do.  It  makes  a  sort  of  central 
attraction  at  home  on  the  Sabbath,  and  makes  the  acquisi- 
tion of  religious  knowledge  and  the  proper  observance  of 
the  Sabbath  a  sort  of  family  enterprise.  You  know,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "that  people  always  feel  interested  for  an 
object  in  which  they  have  invested  money." 

The  sound  of  the  first  Sabbath-school  bell  put  an  end 
to  this  conversation.  The  children  promptly  made  them- 
selves ready,  and  as  their  father  was  the  superintendent  of 
the  school,  and  their  mother  one  of  the  teachers,  it  was 
quite  a  family  party. 

One  part  of  every  Sabbath  at  my  friend's  was  spent  by 
one  or  both  parents  with  the  children  in  a  sort  of  review 
of  the  week.  The  attention  of  the  little  ones  was  directed 
to  their  own  characters,  the  various  defects  or  improvements 
of  the  past  week  were  pointed  out,  and  they  were  stimu- 


298  THE   SABBATH 

lated  to  be  on  their  guard  in  the  time  to  come,  and  the 
whole  was  closed  by  earnest  prayer  for  such  heavenly  aid 
as  the  temptations  and  faults  of  each  particular  one  might 
need.  After  church  in  the  evening,  while  the  children 
were  thus  withdrawn  to  their  mother's  apartment,  I  could 
not  forbear  reminding  my  friend  of  old  times,  and  of  the 
rather  anti-sabbatical  turn  of  his  mind  in  our  boyish  days. 

"Now,  William,7'  said  I,  "do  you  know  that  you  were 
the  last  boy  of  whom  such  an  enterprise  in  Sabbath-keep- 
ing as  this  was  to  have  been  expected?  I  suppose  you 
remember  Sunday  at  '  the  old  place  '  1 " 

"Nay,  now,  I  think  I  was  the  very  one,"  said  he,  smil- 
ing, "for  I  had  sense  enough  to  see,  as  I  grew  up,  that 
the  day  must  be  kept  thoroughly  or  not  at  all,  and  I  had 
enough  blood  and  motion  in  my  composition  to  see  that 
something  must  be  done  to  enliven  and  make  it  interest- 
ing; so  I  set  myself  about  it.  It  was  one  of  the  first  of 
our  housekeeping  resolutions,  that  the  Sabbath  should  be 
made  a  pleasant  day,  and  yet  be  as  inviolably  kept  as  in 
the  strictest  times  of  our  good  father ;  and  we  have  brought 
things  to  run  in  that  channel  so  long  that  it  seems  to  be 
the  natural  order." 

"I  have  always  supposed,"  said  I,  "that  it  required  a 
peculiar  talent,  and  more  than  common  information  in  a 
parent,  to  accomplish  this  to  any  extent." 

"It  requires  nothing,"  replied  my  friend,  "but  common 
sense,  and  a  strong  determination  to  do  it.  Parents  who 
make  a  definite  object  of  the  religious  instruction  of  their 
children,  if  they  have  common  sense,  can  very  soon  see 
what  is  necessary  in  order  to  interest  them ;  and,  if  they 
find  themselves  wanting  in  the  requisite  information,  they 
can,  in  these  days,  very  readily  acquire  it.  The  sources 
of  religious  knowledge  are  so  numerous,  and  so  popular  in 
their  form,  that  all  can  avail  themselves  of  them.  The 
only  difficulty  after  all  is,  that  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath 


THE    SABBATH  299 

and  the  imparting  of  religious  instruction  are  not  made 
enough  of  a  home  object.  Parents  pass  off  the  responsi- 
bility on  to  the  Sunday-school  teacher,  and  suppose,  of 
course,  if  they  send  their  children  to  Sunday-school,  they 
do  the  best  they  can  for  them.  Now,  I  am  satisfied,  from 
my  experience  as  a  Sabbath-school  teacher,  that  the  best 
religious  instruction  imparted  abroad  still  stands  in  need 
of  the  cooperation  of  a  systematic  plan  of  religious  disci- 
pline and  instruction  at  home;  for,  after  all,  God  gives  a 
power  to  the  efforts  of  a  parent  that  can  never  be  trans- 
ferred to  other  hands." 

"But  do  you  suppose,"  said  I,  "that  the  common  class 
of  minds,  with  ordinary  advantages,  can  do  what  you  have 
done  ? " 

"I  think  in  most  cases  they  could,  if  they  begin  right. 
But  when  both  parents  and  children  have  formed  habits, 
it  is  more  difficult  to  change  than  to  begin  right  at  first. 
However,  I  think  all  might  accomplish  a  great  deal  if  they 
would  give  time,  money,  and  effort  towards  it.  It  is 
because  the  object  is  regarded  of  so  little  value,  compared 
with  other  things  of  a  worldly  nature,  that  so  little  is 
done. " 

My  friend  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs. 
Fletcher  with  the  children.  Mrs.  Fletcher  sat  down  to 
the  piano,  and  the  Sabbath  was  closed  with  the  happy 
songs  of  the  little  ones;  nor  could  I  notice  a  single  anxious 
eye  turning  to  the  window  to  see  if  the  sun  was  not  almost 
down.  The  tender  and  softened  expression  of  each  coun- 
tenance bore  witness  to  the  subduing  power  of  those  in- 
structions which  had  hallowed  the  last  hour,  and  their 
sweet,  birdlike  voices  harmonized  well  with  the  beautiful 
words :  — 

"How  sweet  the  light  of  Sabbath  eve  ! 
How  soft  the  sunbeam  lingering  there! 
Those  holy  hours  this  low  earth  leave, 
And  rise  on  wings  of  faith  and  prayer." 


RELIGIOUS  POEMS 


ST.    CATHEKINE   BOKKE   BY  ANGELS1 

SLOW  through  the  solemn  air,  in  silence  sailing, 
Borne  by  mysterious  angels,  strong  and  fair, 

She  sleeps  at  last,  blest  dreams  her  eyelids  veiling, 
Above  this  weary  world  of  strife  and  care. 

Lo  how  she  passeth  !  —  dreamy,  slow,  and  calm  : 

Scarce  wave  those  broad,  white  wings,  so  silvery  bright ; 

Those  cloudy  robes,  in  star-emblazoned  folding, 
Sweep  mistily  athwart  the  evening  light. 

Ear,  far  below,  the  dim,  forsaken  earth, 

The  foes  that  threaten,  or  the  friends  that  weep ; 

Past,  like  a  dream,  the  torture  and  the  pain : 
Eor  so  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep. 

The  restless  bosom  of  the  surging  ocean 

Gives  back  the  image  as  the  cloud  floats  o'er, 

1  According  to  this  legend,  Catherine  was  a  noble  maiden  of  Alexandria, 
distinguished  alike  by  birth,  riches,  beauty,  and  the  rarest  gifts  of  genius 
and  learning.  In  the  flower  of  her  life  she  consecrated  herself  to  the 
service  of  her  Redeemer,  and  cheerfully  suffered  for  his  sake  the  loss  of 
wealth,  friends,  and  the  esteem  of  the  world.  Banishment,  imprisonment, 
and  torture  were  in  vain  tried  to  shake  the  constancy  of  her  faith;  and  at 
last  she  was  bound  upon  the  torturing-wheel  for  a  cruel  death.  But  the 
angels  descended,  so  says  the  story,  rent  the  wheel,  and  bore  her  away, 
through  the  air,  far  over  the  sea,  to  Mount  Sinai,  where  her  body  was  left 
to  repose,  and  her  soul  ascended  with  them  to  heaven. 


302       ST.  CATHERINE  BORNE  BY  ANGELS 

Hushing  in  glassy  awe  his  troubled  motion ; 
For  one  blest  moment  he  complains  no  more. 

Like  the  transparent  golden  floor  of  heaven, 

His  charmed  waters  lie  as  in  a  dream, 
And  glistening  wings,  and  starry  robes  unfolding, 

And  serious  angel  eyes  far  downward  gleam. 

0  restless  sea !  thou  seemest  all  enchanted 

By  that  sweet  vision  of  celestial  rest ; 
Where  are  the  winds  and  tides  thy  peace  that  haunted,  — 

So  still  thou  seemest,  so  glorified  and  blest! 

Ah,  sea !  to-morrow,  that  sweet  scene  forgotten, 
Dark  tides  and  tempests  shall  thy  bosom  rear ; 

And  thy  complaining  waves,  with  restless  motion, 
Shall  toss  their  hands  in  their  old  wild  despair. 

So  o'er  our  hearts  sometimes  the  sweet,  sad  story 

Of  suffering  saints,  borne  homeward  crowned  and  blest, 

Shines  down  in  stillness  with  a  tender  glory, 
And  makes  a  mirror  there  of  breathless  rest. 

For  not  alone  in  those  old  Eastern  regions 

Are  Christ's  beloved  ones  tried  by  cross  and  chain ; 

In  many  a  house  are  his  elect  ones  hidden, 
His  martyrs  suffering  in  their  patient  pain. 

The  rack,  the  cross,  life's  weary  wrench  of  woe, 
The  world  sees  not,  as  slow,  from  day  to  day, 

In  calm,  unspoken  patience,  sadly  still, 
The  loving  spirit  bleeds  itself  away. 

But  there  are  hours  when,  from  the  heavens  unfolding, 
Come  down  the  angels  with  the  glad  release ; 


ST.   CATHERINE   BORNE   BY  ANGELS  303 

And  we  look  upward,  to  behold  in  glory 

Our  suffering  loved  ones  borne  away  to  peace. 

Ah,  brief  the  calm  !  the  restless  wave  of  feeling 
Kises  again  when  the  bright  cloud  sweeps  by, 

And  our  unrestful  souls  reflect  no  longer 
That  tender  vision  of  the  upper  sky. 

Espoused  Lord  of  the  pure  saints  in  glory, 
To  whom  all  faithful  souls  affianced  are, 

Breathe  down  thy  peace  into  our  restless  spirits, 
And  make  a  lasting,  heavenly  vision  there. 

So  the  bright  gates  no  more  on  us  shall  close ; 

No  more  the  cloud  of  angels  fade  away ; 
And  we  shall  walk,  amid  life's  weary  strife, 

In  the  calm  light  of  thine  eternal  day. 


THE   CHABMER, 

"  Socrates.  However,  you  and  Simmias  appear  to  me  as  if  you  wished 
to  sift  this  subject  more  thoroughly,  and  to  be  afraid,  like  children,  lest, 
on  the  soul's  departure  from  the  body,  winds  should  blow  it  away. 

"  Upon  this  Cebes  said,  '  Endeavor  to  teach  us  better,  Socrates.  Per- 
haps there  is  a  childish  spirit  in  our  breast  that  has  such  a  dread.  Let  us 
endeavor  to  persuade  him  not  to  be  afraid  of  death,  as  of  hobgoblins.' 

"  'But  you  must  charm  him  every  day,'  said  Socrates,  'until  you  have 
quieted  his  fears.' 

"  'But  whence,  O  Socrates,'  he  said,  'can  we  procure  a  skillful  charmer 
for  such  a  case,  now  you  are  about  to  leave  us  ?  ' 

"  'Greece  is  wide,  Cebes,'  he  said,  'and  in  it  surely  there  are  skillful 
men  ;  and  there  are  many  barbarous  nations,  all  of  which  you  should 
search,  seeking  such  a  charmer,  sparing  neither  money  nor  toil.'  " — Last 
words  of  Socrates,  as  narrated  by  Plato  in  the  Pho&do. 

WE  need  that  charmer,  for  our  hearts  are  sore 
With  longings  for  the  things  that  may  not  be, 

Faint  for  the  friends  that  shall  return  no  more, 
Dark  with  distrust,  or  wrung  with  agony. 

"  What  is  this  life  ?  and  what  to  us  is  death  ? 

Whence  came  we  ?  whither  go  ?  and  where  are  those 
Who,  in  a  moment  stricken  from  our  side, 
Passed  to  that  land  of  shadow  and  repose  ? 

"  And  are  they  all  dust  ?  and  dust  must  we  become  ? 

Or  are  they  living  in  some  unknown  clime  ? 
Shall  we  regain  them  in  that  far-off  home, 
And  live  anew  beyond  the  waves  of  time  ? 

"  0  man  divine  !  on  thee  our  souls  have  hung ; 

Thou  wert  our  teacher  in  these  questions  high  ; 
But  ah !   this  day  divides  thee  from  our  side, 
And  veils  in  dust  thy  kindly  guiding  eye. 


THE   CHARMER  305 

"  Where  is  that  Charmer  whom  thou  hidst  us  seek  ? 

On  what  far  shores  may  his  sweet  voice  be  heard  ? 
When  shall  these  questions  of  our  yearning  souls 
Be  answered  by  the  bright  Eternal  Word  ?  " 

So  spake  the  youth  of  Athens,  weeping  round, 
When  Socrates  lay  calmly  down  to  die  ; 

So  spake  the  sage,  prophetic  of  the  hour 

When  earth's  fair  morning  star  should  rise  on  high. 

They  found  Him  not,  those  youths  of  soul  divine, 
Long  seeking,  wandering,  watching  on  life's  shore ; 

Eeasoning,  aspiring,  yearning  for  the  light, 

Death  came  and  found  them  —  doubting  as  before. 

But  years  passed  on  ;  and  lo  !  the  Charmer  came, 
Pure,  simple,  sweet,  as  comes  the  silver  dew, 

And  the  world  knew  him  not,  —  he  walked  alone 
Encircled  only  by  his  trusting  few. 

Like  the  Athenian  sage,  rejected,  scorned, 

Betrayed,  condemned,  his  day  of  doom  drew  nigh ; 

He  drew  his  faithful  few  more  closely  round, 
And  told  them  that  his  hour  was  come  —  to  die. 

"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  then  He  said, 

"  My  Father's  house  hath  mansions  large  and  fairj 
I  go  before  you  to  prepare  your  place, 

I  will  return  to  take  you  with  me  there.'' 

And  since  that  hour  the  awful  foe  is  charmed, 
And  life  and  death  are  glorified  and  fair ; 

Whither  He  went  we  know,  the  way  we  know, 
And  with  firm  step  press  on  to  meet  him  there. 


KNOCKING 

"Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock." 

KNOCKING,  knocking,  ever  knocking  ? 

Who  is  there  ? 
'T  is  a  pilgrim,  strange  and  kingly, 

Never  such  was  seen  before  ;  — 
Ah,  sweet  soul,  for  such  a  wonder 

Undo  the  door. 

No,  —  that  door  is  hard  to  open ; 
Hinges  rusty,  latch  is  broken  ; 

Bid  Him  go. 

Wherefore,  with  that  knocking  dreary 
Scare  the  sleep  from  one  so  weary  ? 

Say  Him,  —  no. 

Knocking,  knocking,  ever  knocking  ? 

What !      Still  there  ? 
O  sweet  soul,  but  once  behold  Him, 
With  the  glory -crowned  hair  ; 
And  those  eyes,  so  strange  and  tender, 

Waiting  there  ; 
Open  !     Open  !     Once  behold  Him,  — 

Him,  so  fair. 

Ah,  that  door !     Why  wilt  Thou  vex  me, 
Coming  ever  to  perplex  me  ? 
For  the  key  is  stiffly  rusty, 


KNOCKING  307 

And  the  bolt  is  clogged  and  dusty ; 
Many-fingered  ivy -vine 
Seals  it  fast  with  twist  and  twine  ; 
Weeds  of  years  and  years  before 
Choke  the  passage  of  tha£  door. 

Knocking !  knocking  !      What !  still  knocking  ? 

He  still  there  ? 

What 's  the  hour  ?     The  night  is  waning,  — 
In  my  heart  a  drear  complaining, 

And  a  chilly,  sad  unrest ! 
Ah,  this  knocking !     It  disturbs  me, 
Scares  my  sleep  with  dreams  unblest ! 

Give  me  rest, 

Rest,  —  ah,  rest ! 

Best,  dear  soul,  He  longs  to  give  thee ; 
Thou  hast  only  dreamed  of  pleasure, 
Dreamed  of  gifts  and  golden  treasure, 
Dreamed  of  jewels  in  thy  keeping, 
Waked  to  weariness  of  weeping  ;  — 
Open  to  thy  soul's  one  Lover, 
And  thy  night  of  dreams  is  over,  — 
The  true  gifts  He  brings  have  seeming 
More  than  all  thy  faded  dreaming ! 

Did  she  open  ?     Doth  she  ?     Will  she  ? 

So,  as  wondering  we  behold, 
Grows  the  picture  to  a  sign, 
Pressed  upon  your  soul  and  mine ; 
For  in  every  breast  that  liveth 
Is  that  strange,  mysterious  door  ;  — 
Though  forsaken  and  betangled, 
Ivy-gnarled  and  weed-bej angled, 
Dusty,  rusty,  and  forgotten  ;  — 


308  KNOCKING 

There  the  pierced  hand  still  knocketh, 
And  with  ever-patient  watching, 
With  the  sad  eyes  true  and  tender, 
With  the  glory-crowned  hair,  — 
Still  a  God  is  waiting  there. 


THE   OLD  PSALM  TUNE 

You  asked,  dear  friend,  the  other  day, 

Why  still  my  charmed  ear 
Eejoiceth  in  uncultured  tone 

That  old  psalm  tune  to  hear  ? 

I  Ve  heard  full  oft,  in  foreign  lands, 

The  grand  orchestral  strain, 
Where  music's  ancient  masters  live, 

Revealed  on  earth  again,  — 

Where  breathing,  solemn  instruments, 

In  swaying  clouds  of  sound, 
Bore  up  the  yearning,  tranced  soul, 

Like  silver  wings  around ;  — 

I  've  heard  in  old  St.  Peter's  dome, 
Where  clouds  of  incense  rise, 

Most  ravishing  the  choral  swell 
Mount  upwards  to  the  skies. 

And  well  I  feel  the  magic  power, 
When  skilled  and  cultured  art 

Its  cunning  webs  of  sweetness  weaves 
Around  the  captured  heart. 

But  yet,  dear  friend,  though  rudely  sung, 
That  old  psalm  tune  hath  still 

A  pulse  of  power  beyond  them  all 
My  inmost  soul  to  thrill. 


310  THE   OLD   PSALM   TUNE 

Those  halting  tones  that  sound  to  you, 

Are  not  the  tones  I  hear  ; 
But  voices  of  the  loved  and  lost 

There  meet  my  longing  ear. 

I  hear  my  angel  mother's  voice,  — 
Those  were  the  words  she  sung ; 

I  hear  my  brother's  ringing  tones, 
As  once  on  earth  they  rung ; 

And  friends  that  walk  in  white  above 
Come  round  me  like  a  cloud, 

And  far  above  those  earthly  notes 
Their  singing  sounds  aloud. 

There  may  be  discord,  as  you  say ; 

Those  voices  poorly  ring  ; 
But  there  's  no  discord  in  the  strain 

Those  upper  spirits  sing. 

For  they  who  sing  are  of  the  blest, 

The  calm  and  glorified, 
Whose  hours  are  one  eternal  rest 

On  heaven's  sweet  floating  tide. 

Their  life  is  music  and  accord ; 

Their  souls  and  hearts  keep  time 
In  one  sweet  concert  with  the  Lord,  — 

One  concert  vast,  sublime. 

And  through  the  hymns  they  sang  on  earth 

Sometimes  a  sweetness  falls 
On  those  they  loved  and  left  below, 

And  softly  homeward  calls,  — 


THE   OLD   PSALM   TUNE  311 

Bells  from  our  own  dear  fatherland, 

Borne  trembling  o'er  the  sea,  — 
The  narrow  sea  that  they  have  crossed, 

The  shores  where  we  shall  be. 

O  sing,  sing  on,  beloved  souls ! 

Sing  cares  and  griefs  to  rest ; 
Sing,  till  entranced  we  arise 

To  join  you  'mong  the  blest 


THE  OTHER  WOBLD 

IT  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud, 

A  world  we  do  not  see  ; 
Yet  the  sweet  closing  of  an  eye 

May  bring  us  there  to  be. 

Its  gentle  breezes  fan  our  cheek ; 

Amid  our  worldly  cares, 
Its  gentle  voices  whisper  love, 

And  mingle  with  our  prayers. 

Sweet  hearts  around  us  throb  and  beat, 
Sweet  helping  hands  are  stirred, 

And  palpitates  the  veil  between 
With  breathings  almost  heard. 

The  silence,  awful,  sweet,  and  calm, 
They  have  no  power  to  break  ; 

For  mortal  words  are  not  for  them 
To  utter  or  partake. 

So  thin,  so  soft,  so  sweet,  they  glide, 
So  near  to  press  they  seem, 

They  lull  us  gently  to  our  rest, 
They  melt  into  our  dream. 

And  in  the  hush  of  rest  they  bring 

'T  is  easy  now  to  see 
How  lovely  and  how  sweet  a  pass 

The  hour  of  death  may  be  ;  — 


THE   OTHER   WOKLD  313 

To  close  the  eye,  and  close  the  ear, 

Wrapped  in  a  trance  of  bliss, 
And,  gently  drawn  in  loving  arms, 

To  swoon  to  that  —  from  this,  — 

Scarce  knowing  if  we  wake  or  sleep, 

Scarce  asking  where  we  are, 
To  feel  all  evil  sink  away, 

All  sorrow  and  all  care. 

Sweet  souls  around  us  !  watch  us  still ; 

Press  nearer  to  our  side ; 
Into  our  thoughts,  into  our  prayers, 

With  gentle  helpings  glide. 

Let  death  between  us  be  as  naught, 

A  dried  and  vanished  stream ; 
Your  joy  be  the  reality, 

Our  suffering  life  the  dream. 


MARY  AT   THE   CEOSS 

"Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of  Jesus  his  mother." 

O  WONDROUS  mother !   since  the  dawn  of  time 
Was  ever  love,  was  ever  grief,  like  thine  ? 

O  highly  favored  in  thy  joy's  deep  flow, 

And  favored,  even  in  this,  thy  bitterest  woe ! 

Poor  was  that  home  in  simple  Nazareth 

Where,  fairly  growing,  like  some  silent  flower, 

Last  of  a  kingly  race,  unknown  and  lowly, 
0  desert  lily,  passed  thy  childhood's  hour. 

The  world  knew  not  the  tender,  serious  maiden, 
Who  through  deep  loving  years  so  silent  grew, 

Full  of  high  thought  and  holy  aspiration, 

Which  the  o'ershadowing  God  alone  might  view. 

And  then  it  came,  that  message  from  the  highest, 
Such  as  to  woman  ne'er  before  descended, 

The  almighty  wings  thy  prayerful  soul  o'erspread, 
And  with  thy  life  the  Life  of  worlds  was  blended. 

What  visions  then  of  future  glory  filled  thee, 
The  chosen  mother  of  that  King  unknown, 

Mother  fulfiller  of  all  prophecy 

Which,  through  dim  ages,  wondering  seers  had  shown  ! 

Well  did  thy  dark  eye  kindle,  thy  deep  soul 
Rise  into  billows,  and  thy  heart  rejoice ; 


MARY   AT   THE   CROSS  315 

Then  woke  the  poet's  fire,  the  prophet's  song, 

Tuned  with  strange  burning  words  thy  timid  voice. 

Then,  in  dark  contrast,  came  the  lowly  manger, 
The  outcast  shed,  the  tramp  of  brutal  feet ; 

Again  behold  earth's  learned  and  her  lowly, 
Sages  and  shepherds,  prostrate  at  thy  feet. 

Then  to  the  temple  bearing  —  hark  again 
What  strange  conflicting  tones  of  prophecy 

Breathe  o'er  the  child  foreshadowing  words  of  joy, 
High  triumph  blent  with  bitter  agony  ! 

0  highly  favored  thou  in  many  an  hour 

Spent  in  lone  musings  with  thy  wondrous  Son, 

When  thou  didst  gaze  into  that  glorious  eye, 
And  hold  that  mighty  hand  within  thine  own* 

Blest    through    those    thirty    years,    when    in    thy 
dwelling 

He  lived  a  God  disguised  with  unknown  power ; 
And  thou  his  sole  adorer,  his  best  love, 

Trusting,  revering,  waited  for  his  hour. 

Blest  in  that  hour,  when  called  by  opening  heaven 
With  cloud  and  voice,  and  the  baptizing  flame, 

Up    from    the    Jordan     walked    th'    acknowledged 

stranger, 
And  awe-struck  crowds  grew  silent  as  He  came. 

Blessed,  when  full  of  grace,  with  glory  crowned, 
He  from  both  hands  almighty  favors  poured, 

And,  though  He  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head, 
Brought  to  his  feet  alike  the  slave  and  lord. 


316  MARY   AT   THE   CROSS 

Crowds    followed ;    thousands    shouted,     "  Lo,    our 

King !  » 
Fast  beat  thy  heart.     Now,  now  the  hour  draws 

nigh: 

Behold  the  crown,  the  throne,  the  nations  bend  ! 
Ah,  no  !  fond  mother,  no  !  behold  Him  die ! 

Now  by  that  cross  thou  tak'st  thy  final  station, 
And  shar'st  the  last  dark  trial  of  thy  Son ; 

Not  with  weak  tears  or  woman's  lamentation, 
But  with  high,  silent  anguish,  like  his  own. 

Hail !  highly  favored,  even  in  this  deep  passion ; 

Hail !  in  this  bitter  anguish  thou  art  blest,  — 
Blest  in  the  holy  power  with  Him  to  suffer 

Those  deep  death-pangs  that  lead  to  higher  rest. 

All  now  is  darkness  ;  and  in  that  deep  stillness 
The  God-man  wrestles  with  that  mighty  woe ; 

Hark  to  that  cry,  the  rock  of  ages  rending,  — 
"  'T  is  finished  !  "  Mother,  all  is  glory  now ! 

By  sufferings  mighty  as  his  mighty  soul 
Hath  the  Eedeemer  risen  forever  blest ; 

And  through  all  ages  must  his  heart-beloved 
Through  the  same  baptism  enter  the  same  rest. 


THE  INNER  VOICE 

"Come  ye  yourselves  into  a  desert  place  and  rest  awhile  ;  for  there 
were  many  coming  and  going,  so  that  they  had  no  time  so  much  as  to 
eat." 

'MiD  the  mad  whirl  of  life,  its  dim  confusion, 

Its  jarring  discords  and  poor  vanity, 
Breathing  like  music  over  troubled  waters, 

What  gentle  voice,  0  Christian,  speaks  to  thee  ? 

It  is  a  stranger,  —  not  of  earth  or  earthly  ; 

By  the  serene,  deep  fullness  of  that  eye,  — 
By  the  calm,  pitying  smile,  the  gesture  lowly,  — 

It  is  thy  Saviour  as  He  passeth  by. 

"Come,    come,"    He    saith,    "0    soul    oppressed    and 

weary, 

Come  to  the  shadows  of  my  desert  rest, 
Come  walk  with  me  far  from  life's  babbling  discords, 
And  peace  shall  breathe  like  music  in  thy  breast. 

"  Art  thou  bewildered  by  contesting  voices,  — 
Sick  to  thy  soul  of  party  noise  and  strife  ? 
Come,  leave  it  all,  and  seek  that  solitude 
Where  thou  shalt  learn  of  me  a  purer  life. 

ft  When  far  behind  the  world's  great  tumult  dieth, 
Thou  shalt  look  back  and  wonder  at  its  roar ; 
But  its  far  voice  shall  seem  to  thee  a  dream, 
Its  power  to  vex  thy  holier  life  be  o'er. 


318  THE   INNEK   VOICE 

"  There  shalt  thou  learn  the  secret  of  a  power, 

Mine  to  bestow,  which  heals  the  ills  of  living ; 
To  overcome  by  love,  to  live  by  prayer, 

To  conquer  man's  worst  evils  by  forgiving." 


ABIDE   IN   ME,   AND   I   IN   YOU 

THE    SOUL'S    ANSWER 

THAT  mystic  word  of  thine,  0  sovereign  Lord, 
Is  all  too  pure,  too  high,  too  deep  for  me  ; 

Weary  of  striving,  and  with  longing  faint, 
I  breathe  it  back  again  in  prayer  to  thee. 

Abide  in  me,  I  pray,  and  I  in  thee ; 

From  this  good  hour,  0  leave  me  nevermore ; 
Then  shall  the  discord  cease,  the  wound  be  healed, 

The  lifelong  bleeding  of  the  soul  be  o'er. 

Abide  in  me ;  o'ershadow  by  thy  love 

Each  half-formed  purpose  and  dark  thought  of  sin ; 
Quench,  e'er  it  rise,  each  selfish,  low  desire, 

And  keep  my  soul  as  thine,  calm  and  divine. 

As  some  rare  perfume  in  a  vase  of  clay 
Pervades  it  with  a  fragrance  not  its  own, 

So,  when  thou  dwellest  in  a  mortal  soul, 

All  heaven's  own  sweetness  seems  around  it  thrown. 

Abide  in  me  :  there  have  been  moments  blest 

When  I  have  heard  thy  voice  and  felt  thy  power ; 

Then  evil  lost  its  grasp,  and  passion,  hushed, 
Owned  the  divine  enchantment  of  the  hour. 


320  ABIDE   IN  ME,  AND   I  IN  YOU 

These  were  but  seasons,  beautiful  and  rare ; 

Abide  in  me,  and  they  shall  ever  be. 
Fulfill  at  once  thy  precept  and  my  prayer,  — 

Come,  and  abide  in  me,  and  I  in  thee. 


THE   SECEET 

"Thou  shalt  keep  them  in  the  secret  of  thy  presence  from  the  strife 
of  tongues." 

WHEN  winds  are  raging  o'er  the  upper  ocean, 
And  billows  wild  contend  with  angry  roar, 

'T  is  said,  far  down  beneath  the  wild  commotion, 
That  peaceful  stillness  reigneth  evermore. 

Far,  far  beneath,  the  noise  of  tempest  dieth, 
And  silver  waves  chime  ever  peacefully ; 

And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  he  flieth, 
Disturbs  the  sabbath  of  that  deeper  sea. 

So  to  the  soul  that  knows  thy  love,  0  Purest, 
There  is  a  temple  peaceful  evermore ! 

And  all  the  babble  of  life's  angry  voices 
Die  in  hushed  stillness  at  its  sacred  door. 

Far,  far  away  the  noise  of  passion  dieth, 
And  loving  thoughts  rise  ever  peacefully ; 

And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  he  flieth, 
Disturbs  that  deeper  rest,  0  Lord,  in  thee. 

0  rest  of  rests  !  O  peace  serene,  eternal ! 

Thou  ever  livest  and  thou  changest  never ; 
And  in  the  secret  of  thy  presence  dwelleth 

Fullness  of  joy,  forever  and  forever. 


THINK  NOT   ALL   IS   OVEE 

THINK  not,  when  the  wailing  winds  of  autumn 
Drive  the  shivering  leaflets  from  the  tree,  — 
Think  not  all  is  over :   spring  returneth, 
Buds  and  leaves  and  blossoms  thou  shalt  see. 

Think  not,  when  the  Earth  lies  cold  and  sealed, 
And  the  weary  birds  above  her  mourn,  — 
Think  not  all  is  over :   God  still  liveth, 
Songs  and  sunshine  shall  again  return. 

Think  not,  when  thy  heart  is  waste  and  dreary, 
When  thy  cherished  hopes  lie  chill  and  sere,  — 
Think  not  all  is  over  :   God  still  loveth, 
He  will  wipe  away  thy  every  tear. 

Weeping  for  a  night  alone  endureth, 
God  at  last  shall  bring  a  morning  hour ; 
In  the  frozen  buds  of  every  winter 
Sleep  the  blossoms  of  a  future  flower. 


LINES 

TO    THE    MEMORY     OF    "  ANNIE,"    WHO      DIED    AT    MILAN, 
JUNE  6,  1860 

"Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Woman,  why  wee  pest  thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ? 
She,  supposing  him  to  be  the  gardener,  saith  unto  him,  Sir,  if  thou  have 
borne  him  hence,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  him."  — JOHN  xx.  15. 

IN  the  fair  garden  of  celestial  peace 

Walketh  a  Gardener  in  meekness  clad ; 

Fair  are  the  flowers  that  wreathe  his  dewy  locks, 
And  his  mysterious  eyes  are  sweet  and  sad. 

Fair  are  the  silent  foldings  of  his  robes, 
Falling  with  saintly  calmness  to  his  feet ; 

And  when  he  walks,  each  floweret  to  his  will 
With  living  pulse  of  sweet  accord  doth  beat. 

Every  green  leaf  thrills  to  its  tender  heart, 
In  the  mild  summer  radiance  of  his  eye  ; 

No  fear  of  storm,  or  cold,  or  bitter  frost, 

Shadows  the  flowerets  when  their  sun  is  nigh. 

And  all  our  pleasant  haunts  of  earthly  love 
Are  nurseries  to  those  gardens  of  the  air  ; 

And  his  far-darting  eye,  with  starry  beam, 
Watcheth  the  growing  of  his  treasures  there. 

We  call  them  ours,  o'erwept  with  selfish  tears, 

O'erwatched  with  restless  longings  night  and  dav  ; 


324  LINES 

Forgetful  of  the  high,  mysterious  right 

He  holds  to  bear  our  cherished  plants  away. 

But  when  some  sunny  spot  in  those  bright  fields 
Needs  the  fair  presence  of  an  added  flower, 

Down  sweeps  a  starry  angel  in  the  night : 

At  morn,  the  rose  has  vanished  from  our  bower. 

Where  stood  our  tree,  our  flower,  there  is  a  grave ! 

Blank,  silent,  vacant,  but  in  worlds  above, 
Like  a  new  star  outblossomed  in  the  skies, 

The  angels  hail  an  added  flower  of  love. 

Dear  friend,  no  more  upon  that  lonely  mound, 
Strewed  with  the  red  and  yellow  autumn  leaf, 

Drop  thou  the  tear,  but  raise  the  fainting  eye 
Beyond  the  autumn  mists  of  earthly  grief. 

Thy  garden  rosebud  bore,  within  its  breast, 
Those  mysteries  of  color,  warm  and  bright, 

That  the  bleak  climate  of  this  lower  sphere 
Could  never  waken  into  form  and  light. 

Yes,  the  sweet  Gardener  hath  borne  her  hence, 
Nor  must  thou  ask  to  take  her  thence  away ; 

Thou  shalt  behold  her  in  some  coming  hour, 
Full-blossomed  in  his  fields  of  cloudless  day. 


THE   CROCUS 

BENEATH  the  sunny  autumn  sky, 

With  gold  leaves  dropping  round, 
We  sought,  my  little  friend  and  I, 

The  consecrated  ground, 
Where,  calm  beneath  the  holy  cross, 

O'ershadowed  by  sweet  skies, 
Sleeps  tranquilly  that  youthful  form, 

Those  blue  unclouded  eyes. 

Around  the  soft,  green  swelling  mound 

We  scooped  the  earth  away, 
And  buried  deep  the  crocus-bulbs 

Against  a  coming  day. 
"  These  roots  are  dry,  and  brown,  and  sere ; 

Why  plant  them  here  ?  "  he  said, 
"  To  leave  them,  all  the  winter  long, 
So  desolate  and  dead." 

"  Dear  child,  within  each  sere  dead  form 

There  sleeps  a  living  flower, 
And  angel-like  it  shall  arise 

In  spring's  returning  hour." 
Ah,  deeper  down  —  cold,  dark,  and  chill  - 

We  buried  our  heart's  flower, 
But  angel-like  shall  he  arise 

In  spring's  immortal  hour. 

In  blue  and  yellow  from  its  grave 
Springs  up  the  crocus  fair, 


326  THE   CROCUS 

And  God  shall  raise  those  bright  blue  eyes, 

Those  sunny  waves  of  hair. 
Not  for  a  fading  summer's  morn, 

Not  for  a  fleeting  hour, 
But  for  an  endless  age  of  bliss, 

Shall  rise  our  heart's  dear  flower. 


CONSOLATION 

WRITTEN    AFTER    THE    SECOND    BATTLE    OF    BULL    RUN 

''And  I  saw  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  :  for  the  first  heaven  and 
the  first  earth  were  passed  away  ;  and  there  was  no  more  sea." 

AH,  many-voiced  and  angry  !  how  the  waves 

Beat  turbulent  with  terrible  uproar  ! 
Is  there  no  rest  from  tossing,  —  no  repose  ? 

Where  shall  we  find  a  haven  and  a  shore  ? 

What  is  secure  from  the  land-dashing  wave  ? 

There  go  our  riches,  and  our  hopes  fly  there ; 
There  go  the  faces  of  our  best  beloved, 

Whelmed  in  the  vortex  of  its  wild  despair. 

Whose  son  is  safe  ?  whose  brother,  and  whose  home  ? 

The  dashing  spray  beats  out  the  household  fire ; 
By  blackened  ashes  weep  our  widowed  souls 

Over  the  embers  of  our  \ost  desire. 

By  pauses,  in  the  fitful  moaning  storm, 
We  hear  triumphant  notes  of  battle  roll. 

Too  soon  the  triumph  sinks  in  funeral  wail ; 

The  muffled  drum,  the  death  inarch,  shakes  the  soul ! 

Rocks  on  all  sides,  and  breakers !  at  the  helm 
Weak  human  hand  and  weary  human  eyes. 

The  shout  and  clamor  of  our  dreary  strife 
Goes  up  conflicting  to  the  angry  skies. 


328  CONSOLATION 

But  for  all  this,  0  timid  hearts,  be  strong ; 

Be  of  good  cheer,  for,  though  the  storm  must  be, 
It  hath  its  Master :  from  the  depths  shall  rise 

New  heavens,  new  earth,  where  shall  be  no  more  sea. 

No  sea,  no  tossing,  no  unrestful  storm  ! 

Forever  past  the  anguish  and  the  strife  ; 
The  poor  old  weary  earth  shall  bloom  again, 

With  the  bright  foliage  of  that  better  life. 

And  war,  and  strife,  and  hatred,  shall  be  past, 

And  misery  be  a  forgotten  dream. 
The  Shepherd  God  shall  lead  his  peaceful  fold 

By  the  calm  meadows  and  the  quiet  stream. 

Be  still,  be  still,  and  know  that  he  is  God ; 

Be  calm,  be  trustful ;   work,  and  watch,  and  pray, 
Till  from  the  throes  of  this  last  anguish  rise 

The  light  and  gladness  of  that  better  day. 


"  ONLY  A  YEAE  " 

ONE  year  ago,  —  a  ringing  voice, 

A  clear  blue  eye, 
And  clustering  curls  of  sunny  hair, 

Too  fair  to  die. 

Only  a  year,  —  no  voice,  no  smile, 

No  glance  of  eye, 
No  clustering  curls  of  golden  hair, 

Fair  but  to  die  ! 

One  year  ago,  —  what  loves,  what  schemes 

Far  into  life  ! 
What  joyous  hopes,  what  high  resolves, 

What  generous  strife  ! 

The  silent  picture  on  the  wall, 

The  burial  stone, 
Of  all  that  beauty,  life,  and  joy 

Remain  alone ! 

One  year,  —  one  year,  —  one  little  year, 

And  so  much  gone  ! 
And  yet  the  even  flow  of  life 

Moves  calmly  on. 

The  grave  grows  green,  the  flowers  bloom  fair. 

Above  that  head ; 
No  sorrowing  tint  of  leaf  or  spray 

Says  he  is  dead. 


330  ONLY  A   YEAR 

No  pause  or  hush  of  merry  birds, 

That  sing  above, 
Tells  us  how  coldly  sleeps  below 

The  form  we  love. 

Where  hast  thou  been  this  year,  beloved  ? 

What  hast  thou  seen  ? 
What  visions  fair,  what  glorious  life, 

Where  thou  hast  been  ? 

The  veil  !  the  veil !  so  thin,  so  strong ! 

'Twixt  us  and  thee  ; 
The  mystic  veil !   when  shall  it  fall, 

That  we  may  see  ? 

Not  dead,  not  sleeping,  not  even  gone, 

But  present  still, 
And  waiting  for  the  coming  hour 

Of  God's  sweet  will. 

Lord  of  the  living  and  the  dead, 

Our  Saviour  dear  ! 
We  lay  in  silence  at  thy  feet 

This  sad,  sad  year ! 


BELOW 

LOUDLY  sweep  the  winds  of  autumn 
O'er  that  lone,  beloved  grave, 
Where  we  laid  those  sunny  ringlets, 
When  those  blue  eyes  set  like  stars, 
Leaving  us  to  outer  darkness. 
0  the  longing  and  the  aching ! 
0  the  sere  deserted  grave  ! 

Let  the  grass  turn  brown  upon  thee, 
Brown  and  withered  like  our  dreams  ! 
Let  the  wind  moan  through  the  pine-trees 
With  a  dreary,  dirge-like  whistle, 
Sweep  the  dead  leaves  on  its  bosom,  — 
Moaning,  sobbing  through  the  branches, 
Where  the  summer  laughed  so  gayly. 

He  is  gone,  our  boy  of  summer,  — 
Gone  the  light  of  his  blue  eyes, 
Gone  the  tender  heart  and  manly, 
Gone  the  dreams  and  the  aspirings,  — 
Nothing  but  the  mound  remaineth, 
And  the  aching  in  our  bosoms, 
Ever  aching,  ever  throbbing  : 
Who  shall  bring  it  unto  rest  ? 


ABOVE 

A    VISION 

COMING  down  a  golden  street 
I  beheld  my  vanished  one, 
And  he  moveth  on  a  cloud, 
And  his  forehead  wears  a  star ; 
And  his  blue  eyes,  deep  and  holy, 
Fixed  as  in  a  blessed  dream, 
See  some  mystery  of  joy, 
Some  unuttered  depth  of  love. 

And  his  vesture  is  as  blue 
As  the  skies  of  summer  are, 
Falling  with  a  saintly  sweep, 
With  a  sacred  stillness  swaying ; 
And  he  presseth  to  his  bosom 
Harps  of  strange  and  mystic  fashion, 
And  his  hands,  like  living  pearls, 
Wander  o'er  the  golden  strings. 

And  the  music  that  ariseth, 
Who  can  utter  or  divine  it  ? 
In  that  strange  celestial  thrilling, 
Every  memory  of  sorrow, 
Every  heart-ache,  every  anguish, 
Every  fear  for  the  to-morrow, 
Melt  away  in  charmed  rest. 

And  there  be  around  him  many, 
Bright  with  robes  like  evening  clouds, 


ABOVE  333 

Tender  green  and  clearest  amber, 
Crimson  fading  into  rose, 
Robes  of  flames  and  robes  of  silver,  — 
And  their  hues  all  thrill  and  tremble 
With  a  living  light  of  feeling, 
Deepening  with  each  heart's  pulsation, 
Till  in  vivid  trance  of  color 
That  celestial  rainbow  glows. 

How  they  float  and  wreathe  and  brighten, 
Bending  low  their  starry  brows, 
Singing  with  a  tender  cadence, 
And  their  hands,  like  spotless  lilies, 
Folded  on  their  prayerful  breasts. 
In  their  singing  seem  to  mingle 
Tender  airs  of  bygone  days  ;  — 
Mother-hymnings  by  the  cradle, 
Mother-moanings  by  the  grave, 
Songs  of  human  love  and  sorrow, 
Songs  of  endless  love  and  rest ;  — 
In  the  pauses  of  that  music 
Every  throb  of  sorrow  dies. 

0  my  own,  my  heart's  beloved, 
Vainly  have  I  wept  above  thee  ? 
Would  I  call  thee  from  thy  glory 
To  this  world's  impurity  ?  — 

Lo  !  it  passeth,  it  dissolveth, 
All  the  vision  melts  away  ; 
But  as  if  a  heavenly  lily 
Dropped  into  my  aching  breast, 
With  a  healing  sweetness  laden, 
With  a  mystic  breath  of  rest, 

1  am  charmed  into  forgetting 
Autumn  winds  and  dreary  grave. 


LINES 

SUGGESTED    BY    THE    DEATH    OF    THE    WIFE    OF    MOSES 
STUART,    OF    ANDOVEB,    MASS. 

How  quiet,  through  the  hazy  autumn  air, 
The  elm-boughs  wave  with  many  a  gold-flecked  leaf ! 
How  calmly  float  the  dreamy  mantled  clouds 
Through  these  still  days  of  autumn,  fair  and  brief ! 

Our  Andover  stands  thoughtful,  fair,  and  calm, 
Waiting  to  lay  her  summer  glories  by 
E'er  the  bright  flush  shall  kindle  all  her  pines, 
And  her  woods  blaze  with  autumn's  heraldry. 

By  the  old  mossy  wall  the  goldenrod 
Waves  as  aforetime,  and  the  purple  sprays 
Of  starry  asters  quiver  to  the  breeze, 
Rustling  all  stilly  through  the  forest  ways. 

No  voice  of  triumph  from  those  silent  skies 
Breaks  on  the  calm,  and  speaks  of  glories  near, 
Nor  bright  wings  flutter,  nor  fair  glistening  robes 
Proclaim  that  heavenly  messengers  are  here. 

Yet  in  our  midst  an  angel  hath  come  down, 
Troubling  the  waters  in  a  peaceful  home  ; 
And  from  that  home,  of  life's  long  sickness  healed, 
A  saint  hath  risen,  where  pain  no  more  may  come. 


LINES  335 

Christ's  fair  elect  one,  from  a  hidden  life 
Of  loving  deeds  and  words  of  gentleness, 
Hath  passed  where  all  are  loving  and  beloved, 
Beyond  all  weariness  and  all  distress. 

Calm,  like  a  lamb  in  shepherd's  bosom  borne, 
Quiet  and  trustful  hath  she  sunk  to  rest ; 
God  breathed  in  tenderness  the  sweet  "  Well  done  !  " 
That  scarce  awoke  a  trance  so  still  and  blest. 

Ye  who  remember  the  long  loving  years, 
The  patient  mother's  hourly  martyrdom, 
The  self-renouncing  wisdom,  the  calm  trust, 
Rejoice  for  her  whose  day  of  rest  is  come  ! 

Father  and  mother,  now  united,  stand 
Waiting  for  you  to  bind  the  household  chain  ; 
The  tent  is  struck,  the  home  is  gone  before, 
And  tarries  for  you  on  the  heavenly  plain. 

By  every  wish  repressed  and  hope  resigned, 
Each  cross  accepted  and  each  sorrow  borne, 
She  dead  yet  speaketh,  she  doth  beckon  you 
To  tread  the  path  her  patient  feet  have  worn. 

Each  year  that  world  grows  richer  and  more  dear 
With  the  bright  freight  washed  from  life's  stormy  shore ; 
0  goodly  clime,  how  lovely  is  thy  strand, 
With  those  dear  faces  seen  on  earth  no  more  ! 

The  veil  between  this  world  and  that  to  come 
Grows  tremulous  and  quivers  with  their  breath ; 
Dimly  we  hear  their  voices,  see  their  hands, 
Inviting  us  to  the  release  of  death. 


336  LINES 

0  Thou,  in  whom  thy  saints  above,  below, 
Are  one  and  undivided,  grant  us  grace 
In  patience  yet  to  bear  our  daily  cross,  — 
In  patience  run  our  hourly  shortening  race ! 

And  while  on  earth  we  wear  the  servant's  form, 
And  while  life's  labors  ever  toilful  be, 
Breathe  in  our  souls  the  joyful  confidence 
We  are  already  kings  and  priests  with  thee. 


SUMMEK   STUDIES 

WHY  shouldst  thou  study  in  the  month  of  June 
In  dusky  books  of  Greek  and  Hebrew  lore, 
When  the  Great  Teacher  of  all  glorious  things 
Passes  in  hourly  light  before  thy  door  ? 

There  is  a  brighter  book  unrolling  now ; 

Fair  are  its  leaves  as  is  the  tree  of  heaven, 

All  veined  and  dewed  and  gemmed  with  wondrous  signs, 

To  which  a  healing  mystic  power  is  given. 

A  thousand  voices  to  its  study  call, 
From  the  fair  hilltop,  from  the  waterfall, 
Where  the  bird  singeth,  and  the  yellow  bee, 
And  the  breeze  talketh  from  the  airy  tree. 

Now  is  that  glorious  resurrection  time 

When  all  earth's  buried  beauties  have  new  birth : 

Behold  the  yearly  miracle  complete,  — 

God  hath  created  a  new  heaven  and  earth ! 

No  tree  that  wants  its  joyful  garments  now, 
No  flower  but  hastes  his  bravery  to  don; 
God  bids  thee  to  this  marriage  feast  of  joy, 
Let  thy  soul  put  the  wedding  garment  on. 

All  fringed  with  festal  gold  the  barberry  stands ; 
The  ferns,  exultant,  clap  their  new-made  wings ; 
The  hemlock  rustles  broideries  of  fresh  green, 
And  thousand  bells  of  pearl  the  blueberry  rings. 


338  SUMMER   STUDIES 

The  long,  weird  fingers  of  the  old  white-pines 
Do  beckon  thee  into  the  flickering  wood, 
Where  moving  spots  of  light  show  mystic  flowers, 
And  wavering  music  fills  the  dreamy  hours. 

Hast  thou  no  time  for  all  this  wondrous  show,  — 
No  thought  to  spare  ?     Wilt  thou  forever  be 
With  thy  last  year's  dry  flower-stalk  and  dead  leaves, 
And  no  new  shoot  or  blossom  on  thy  tree  ? 

See  how  the  pines  push  off  their  last  year's  leaves, 
And  stretch  beyond  them  with  exultant  bound : 
The  grass  and  flowers,  with  living  power,  o'ergrow 
Their  last  year's  remnants  on  the  greening  ground. 

Wilt  thou,  then,  all  thy  wintry  feelings  keep, 
The  old  dead  routine  of  thy  book-writ  lore. 
Nor  deem  that  God  can  teach,  by  one  bright  hour, 
What  life  hath  never  taught  to  thee  before? 

See  what  vast  leisure,  what  unbounded  rest, 

Lie  in  the  bending  dome  of  the  blue  sky  : 

Ah  !   breathe  that  life-born  languor  from  thy  breast, 

And  know  once  more  a  child's  unreasoning  joy. 

Cease,  cease  to  think,  and  be  content  to  be; 
Swing  safe  at  anchor  in  fair  Nature's  bay  ; 
Reason  no  more,  but  o'er  thy  quiet  soul 
Let  God's  sweet  teachings  ripple  their  soft  way. 

Soar  with  the  birds,  and  flutter  with  the  leaf ; 
Dance  with  the  seeded  grass  in  fringy  play ; 
Sail  with  the  cloud,  wave  with  the  dreaming  pine, 
And  float  with  Nature  all  the  livelong  day. 


SUMMER   STUDIES  339 

Call  not  such  hours  an  idle  waste  of  time,  — 
Land  that  lies  fallow  gains  a  quiet  power ; 
It  treasures,  from  the  brooding  of  God's  wings, 
Strength  to  unfold  the  future  tree  and  flower. 

And  when  the  summer's  glorious  show  is  past, 
Its  miracles  no  longer  charm  thy  sight, 
The  treasured  riches  of  those  thoughtful  hours 
Shall  make  thy  wintry  musings  warm  and  bright. 


THE   SHEPHERDS'   CAEOL 

"  O  SHEPHERD  of  Israel, 

Thy  lost  flock  are  straying ; 
Our  Helper,  our  Saviour, 

How  long  thy  delaying  ! 
Where,  Lord,  is  thy  promise 

To  David  of  old, 
Of  the  King  and  the  Shepherd 

To  gather  the  fold  ! 

"  Cold,  cold  is  the  night  wind, 

Our  hearts  have  no  cheer, 
Our  Lord  and  our  Leader, 

When  wilt  thou  appear  ?  " 
So  sang  the  sad  shepherds 

On  Bethlehem's  cold  ground 
When  lo,  the  bright  angels 

In  glory  around  ! 

"  Peace,  peace,  ye  dear  shepherds, 

And  be  of  good  cheer ; 
The  Lord  whom  ye  long  for 

Is  coming  —  is  here  ! 
In  the  city  of  David 

Behold  him  appear  — 
A  babe  in  a  manger  — 

Go  worship  him  there." 

They  went  and  were  blessed. 
Dear  soul,  go  thou  too ; 


THE  SHEPHERDS'  CAROL  341 

The  Saviour  for  them 

Is  the  Saviour  for  you. 
Oh,  kneel  by  the  manger, 

Oh,  kneel  by  the  cross ; 
Accept  him,  believe  him,  — 

All  else  is  but  dross. 


HOUES   OF  THE  NIGHT 

OR 

WATCHES  OF  SORROW 

I 
MIDNIGHT 

"  He  hath  made  me  to  dwell  in  darkness  as  those  that  have  been  long 
dead." 

ALL  dark  !  —  no  light,  no  ray  ! 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  all  gone ! 
Dimness  of  anguish  !  —  utter  void !  — 
Crushed,  and  alone ! 

One  waste  of  weary  pain, 
One  dull,  unmeaning  ache, 
A  heart  too  weary  even  to  throb, 
Too  bruised  to  break. 

No  longer  anxious  thoughts, 
No  longer  hopes  and  fears, 
No  strife,  no  effort,  no  desire, 
No  tears. 

Daylight  and  leaves  and  flowers, 
Summer  and  song  of  bird !  — 
All  vanished !  —  dreams  forever  gone, 
Unseen,  unheard ! 


MIDNIGHT  343 

Love,  beauty,  youth,  —  all  gone ! 
The  high,  heroic  vow, 
The  buoyant  hope,  the  fond  desire,  — 
All  ashes  now  ! 

The  words  they  speak  to  me 
Far  off  and  distant  seem, 
As  voices  we  have  known  and  loved 
Speak  in  a  dream. 

They  bid  me  to  submit ; 
I  do,  —  I  cannot  strive  ; 
I  do  not  question,  —  I  endure, 
Endure  and  live. 

I  do  not  struggle  more, 
Nor  pray,  for  prayer  is  vain  ; 
I  but  lie  still  the  weary  hour, 
And  bear  my  pain. 

A  guiding  God,  a  Friend, 
A  Father's  gracious  cheer, 
Once  seemed  my  own ;  but  now  even  faith 
Lies  buried  here. 

This  darkened,  deathly  life 
Is  all  remains  of  me, 
And  but  one  conscious  wish,  — 
To  cease  to  be  ! 


344  HOURS   OF  THE   NIGHT 


II 

FIEST   HOUR 

"There  was  darkness  over  all  the  land  from  the  sixth  hour  unto  the 
ninth  hour. 

"  And  Jesus  cried  and  said,  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?" 

THAT  cry  hath  stirred  the  deadness  of  my  soul ; 
I  feel  a  heari^string  throb,  as  throbs  a  chord 
When  breaks  the  master  chord  of  some  great  harp ; 
My  heart  responsive  answers,  "  Why  ?  "  0  Lord. 

0  cross  of  pain  !     O  crown  of  cruel  thorns  ! 

0  piercing  nails !     0  spotless  Sufferer  there  ! 
Wert  thou  forsaken  in  thy  deadly  strife  ? 
Then  canst  thou  pity  me  in  my  despair. 

Take  my  dead  heart,  0  Jesus,  down  with  thee 
To  that  still  sepulchre  where  thou  didst  rest ; 
Lay  it  in  the  fair  linen's  spicy  folds, 
As  a  dear  mother  lays  her  babe  to  rest. 

1  am  so  worn,  so  weary,  so  o'erspent, 

To  lie  with  thee  in  that  calm  trance  were  sweet ; 
The  bitter  myrrh  of  long-remembered  pain 
May  work  in  me  new  strength  to  rise  again. 

This  dark  and  weary  mystery  of  woe, 

This  hopeless  struggle,  this  most  useless  strife,  — 

Ah,  let  it  end  !  I  die  with  thee,  my  Lord, 

To  all  I  ever  hoped  or  wished  from  life. 


FIRST  HOUR  345 

I  die  with  thee  :  thy  fellowship  of  grief, 
Thy  partnership  with  mortal  misery, 
The  weary  watching  and  the  nameless  dread,  — 
Let  them  be  mine  to  make  me  one  with  thee. 

Thou  hast  asked,  "  Why  ?  "  and   God  will  answer 

thee, 

Therefore  I  ask  not,  but  in  peace  lie  down, 
For  the  three  days  of  mystery  and  rest, 
Till  comes  the  resurrection  and  the  crown. 


346  HOUKS   OF   THE   NIGHT 


III 

SECOND  HOUR 

"They  laid  hold  upon  one  Simon  a  Cyrenian,  and  on  him  they  laid 
the  cross,  that  he  might  bear  it  after  Jesus." 

ALONG  the  dusty  thoroughfare  of  life, 

Upon  his  daily  errands  walking  free, 
Came  a  brave,  honest  man,  untouched  by  pain, 

Unchilled  by  sight  or  thought  of  misery. 

But  lo  !  a  crowd  :  —  he  stops,  —  with  curious  eye 
A  fainting  form  all  pressed  to  earth  he  sees  ; 

The  hard,  rough  burden  of  the  bitter  cross 

Hath  bowed  the  drooping  head  and  feeble  knees. 

Ho  !  lay  the  cross  upon  yon  stranger  there, 

For  he  hath  breadth  of  chest  and  strength  of  limb. 

Straight  it  is  done  ;  and  heavy  laden  thus, 
With  Jesus'  cross,  he  turns  and  follows  him. 

Unmurmuring,  patient,  cheerful,  pitiful, 
Prompt  with  the  holy  sufferer  to  endure, 

Forsaking  all  to  follow  the  dear  Lord,  — 
Thus  did  he  make  his  glorious  calling  sure. 

0  soul,  whoe'er  thou  art,  walking  life's  way, 
As  yet  from  touch  of  deadly  sorrow  free, 

Learn  from  this  story  to  forecast  the  day 

When  Jesus  and  his  cross  shall  come  to  thee. 


SECOND   HOUR  347 

0  in  that  fearful,  that  decisive  hour, 

Rebel  not,  shrink  not,  seek  not  thence  to  flee, 

But,  humbly  bending,  take  thy  heavy  load, 
And  bear  it  after  Jesus  patiently. 

His  cross  is  thine.     If  thou  and  he  be  one, 
Some  portion  of  his  pain  must  still  be  thine  ; 

Thus  only  mayst  thou  share  his  glorious  crown, 
And  reign  with  him  in  majesty  divine. 

Master  in  sorrow  !   I  accept  my  share 

In  the  great  anguish  of  life's  mystery. 
No  more,  alone,  I  sink  beneath  my  load, 

But  bear  my  cross,  0  Jesus,  after  thee. 


348  HOUKS   OF   THE   NIGHT 


IV 

THIKD  HOUR 

THE    MYSTERY    OP    LIFE 

"  Let  my  heart  calm  itself  in  thee.     Let  the  great  sea  of  my  heart,  that 
swelleth  with  waves,  calm  itself  in  thee."  —  ST.  AUGUSTINE'S  MANUAL. 

LIFE'S  mystery  —  deep,  restless  as  the  ocean  — 
Hath  surged  and  wailed  for  ages  to  and  fro ; 

Earth's  generations  watch  its  ceaseless  motion, 
As  in  and  out  its  hollow  meanings  flow. 

Shivering  and  yearning  by  that  unknown  sea, 

Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  Christ,  in  thee ! 

Life's  sorrows,  with  inexorable  power, 

Sweep  desolation  o'er  this  mortal  plain  ; 
And  human  loves  and  hopes  fly  as  the  chaff 

Borne  by  the  whirlwind  from  the  ripened  grain. 
Ah !  when  before  that  blast  my  hopes  all  flee, 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  0  Christ,  in  thee  ! 

Between  the  mysteries  of  death  and  life 

Thou  standest,  loving,  guiding,  not  explaining; 

We  ask,  and  thou  art  silent  ;   yet  we  gaze, 

And  our  charmed  hearts  forget  their  drear  complaining. 

No  crushing  fate,  no  stony  destiny, 

0  Lamb  that  hast  been  slain,  we  find  in  thee  ! 

The  many  waves  of  thought,  the  mighty  tides, 
The  ground-swell  that  rolls  up  from  other  lands, 


THIRD   HOUR  349 

From  far-off  worlds,  from  dim,  eternal  shores, 

Whose  echo  dashes  on  life's  wave-worn  strands, 
This  vague,  dark  tumult  of  the  inner  sea 
Grows  calm,  grows  bright,  0  risen  Lord,  in  thee  ! 

Thy  pierced  hand  guides  the  mysterious  wheels ; 

Thy  thorn-crowned  brow  now  wears  the  crown  of  power ; 
And  when  the  dread  enigma  presseth  sore, 

Thy  patient  voice  saith,  "  Watch  with  me  one  hour." 
As  sinks  the  moaning  river  in  the  sea 
In  silver  peace,  so  sinks  my  soul  in  thee ! 


350  HOURS   OF   THE   NIGHT 


Y 
FOUBTH   HOUR 

THE    SORROWS    OF    MARY 
DEDICATED   TO   THE   MOTHERS  WHO   HAVE   LOST   SONS  IN  THE  LATE  WAK 

I  SLEPT,  but  my  heart  was  waking, 

And  out  in  my  dreams  I  sped, 
Through  the  streets  of  an  ancient  city, 

Where  Jesus,  the  Lord,  lay  dead. 

He  was  lying  all  cold  and  lowly, 

And  the  sepulchre  was  sealed, 
And  the  women  that  bore  the  spices 

Had  come  from  the  holy  field. 

There  is  feasting  in  Pilate's  palace, 

There  is  revel  in  Herod's  hall, 
Where  the  lute  and  the  sounding  instrument 

To  mirth  and  merriment  call. 

"  I  have  washed  my  hands,"  said  Pilate, 

"  And  what  is  the  Jew  to  me  ?  " 
"  I  have  missed  my  chance,"  said  Herod, 

"  One  of  his  wonders  to  see. 

"  But  why  should  our  courtly  circle 

To  the  thought  give  further  place  ? 
All  dreams,  save  of  pleasure  and  beauty, 
Bid  the  dancers'  feet  efface." 


FOURTH   HOUR  351 

I  saw  a  light  from  a  casement, 

And  entered  a  lowly  door, 
Where  a  woman,  stricken  and  mournful, 

Sat  in  sackcloth  on  the  floor. 

There  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus, 

And  John,  the  beloved  one, 
With  a  few  poor  friends  beside  them, 

Were  mourning  for  Him  that  was  gone. 

And  before  the  mother  was  lying 

That  crown  of  cruel  thorn, 
Wherewith  they  crowned  that  gentle  brow 

In  mockery  that  morn. 

And  her  ears  yet  ring  with  the  anguish 

Of  that  last  dying  cry,  — 
That  mighty  appeal  of  agony 

That  shook  both  earth  and  sky. 

O  God,  what  a  shaft  of  anguish 

Was  that  dying  voice  from  the  tree  !  — 

From  Him  the  only  spotless,  — 
"  Why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 

And  was  he  of  God  forsaken  ? 

They  ask,  appalled  with  dread  ; 
Is  evil  crowned  and  triumphant, 

And  goodness  vanquished  and  dead  ? 

Is  there,  then,  no  God  in  Jacob  ? 

Is  the  star  of  Judah  dim  ? 
For  who  would  our  God  deliver, 

If  he  would  not  deliver  him  ? 


352  HOURS   OF   THE   NIGHT 

If  God  could  not  deliver,  —  what  hope  then  ? 

If  he  would  not,  —  who  ever  shall  dare 
To  be  firm  in  his  service  hereafter  ? 

To  trust  in  his  wisdom  or  care  ? 

So  darkly  the  Tempter  was  saying, 

To  hearts  that  with  sorrow  were  dumb  ; 

And  the  poor  souls  were  clinging  in  darkness  to 

God, 
With  hands  that  with  anguish  were  numb. 

In  my  dreams  came  the  third  day  morning, 

And  fairly  the  day-star  shone ; 
But  fairer,  the  solemn  angel, 

As  he  rolled  away  the  stone. 

In  the  lowly  dwelling  of  Mary, 

In  the  dusky  twilight  chill, 
There  was  heard  the  sound  of  coming  feet, 

And  her  very  heart  grew  still. 

And  in  the  glimmer  of  dawning, 

She  saw  him  enter  the  door, 
Her  Son,  all  living  and  real, 

Risen,  to  die  no  more  ! 

Her  Son,  all  living  and  real, 

Risen  no  more  to  die,  — 
With  the  power  of  an  endless  life  in  his  face, 

With  the  light  of  heaven  in  his  eye. 

O  mourning  mothers,  so  many, 

Weeping  o'er  sons  that  are  dead, 
Have  ye  thought  of  the  sorrows  of  Mary's  heart, 

Of  the  tears  that  Mary  shed  ? 


FOUKTH   HOUR  353 

Is  the  crown  of  thorns  before  you  ? 

Are  there  memories  of  cruel  scorn  ? 
Of  hunger  and  thirst  and  bitter  cold 

That  your  beloved  have  borne  ? 

Had  ye  ever  a  son  like  Jesus 

To  give  to  a  death  of  pain  ? 
Did  ever  a  son  so  cruelly  die, 

But  did  he  die  in  vain  ? 

Have  ye  ever  thought  that  all  the  hopes 

That  make  our  earth-life  fair, 
Were  born  in  those  three  bitter  days 

Of  Mary's  deep  despair  ? 

O  mourning  mothers,  so  many, 

Weeping  in  woe  and  pain, 
Think  on  the  joy  of  Mary's  heart 

In  a  Son  that  is  risen  again. 

Have  faith  in  a  third-day  morning, 

In  a  resurrection-hour ; 
For  what  ye  sow  in  weakness, 

He  can  raise  again  in  power. 

Have  faith  in  the  Lord  of  that  thorny  crown, 

In  the  Lord  of  the  pierced  hand  ; 
For  he  reigneth  now  o'er  earth  and  heaven, 

And  his  power  who  may  withstand  ? 

And  the  hopes  that  never  on  earth  shall  bloom, 

The  sorrows  forever  new, 
Lay  silently  down  at  the  feet  of  Him 

Who  died  and  is  risen  for  you. 


354  HOURS   OF   THE   NIGHT 


VI 
DAY  DAWN 

THE  dim  gray  dawn,  upon  the  eastern  hills, 

Brings  back  to  light  once  more  the  cheerless  scene ; 

But  oh  !  no  morning  in  my  Father's  house 
Is  dawning  now,  for  there  no  night  hath  been. 

Ten  thousand  thousand  now,  on  Zion's  hills, 

All  robed  in  white,  with  palmy  crowns,  do  stray, 

While  I,  an  exile,  far  from  fatherland, 

Still  wandering,  faint  along  the  desert  way. 

O  home  !  dear  home  !  my  own,  my  native  home  ! 
O  Father,  friends  !  when  shall  I  look  on  you  ? 
When  shall  these  weary  wanderings  be  o'er, 
And  I  be  gathered  back  to  stray  no  more  ? 

0  Thou,  the  brightness  of  whose  gracious  face 
These  weary,  longing  eyes  have  never  seen,  — 
By  whose  dear  thought,  for  whose  beloved  sake, 
My  course,  through  toil  and  tears,  I  daily  take,  — 

1  think  of  thee  when  the  myrrh-dropping  morn 

Steps  forth  upon  the  purple  eastern  steep ; 
I  think  of  thee  in  the  fair  eventide, 

When  the  bright-sandaled  stars  their  watches  keep. 

And  trembling  Hope,  and  fainting,  sorrowing  Love, 
On  thy  dear  word  for  comfort  doth  rely  j 


DAY   DAWN  355 

And  clear-eyed  Faith,  with  strong  forereaching  gaze, 
Beholds  thee  here,  unseen,  but  ever  nigh. 

Walking  in  white  with  thee,  she  dimly  sees, 
All  beautiful,  these  lovely  ones  withdrawn, 

With  whom  my  heart  went  upward,  as  they  rose, 
Like  morning  stars,  to  light  a  coming  dawn. 

All  sinless  now,  and  crowned  and  glorified, 

Where'er  thou  movest  move  they  still  with  thee, 

As  erst,  in  sweet  communion  by  thy  side, 
Walked  John  and  Mary  in  old  Galilee. 

But  hush,  my  heart !   'T  is  but  a  day  or  two 
Divides  thee  from  that  bright,  immortal  shore. 

Rise  up  !  rise  up  !   and  gird  thee  for  the  race  ! 
Fast  fly  the  hours,  and  all  will  soon  be  o'er. 

Thou  hast  the  new  name  written  in  thy  soul ; 

Thou  hast  the  mystic  stone  He  gives  his  own. 
Thy  soul,  made  one  with  him,  shall  feel  no  more 

That  she  is  walking  on  her  path  alone. 


356  HOUKS   OF   THE   NIGHT 


VII 
WHEN  I  AWAKE  I  AM  STILL  WITH  THEE 

STILL,  still  with  Thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh, 
When  the  bird  waketh  and  the  shadows  flee ; 

Fairer  than  morning,  lovelier  than  the  daylight, 
Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness,  I  am  with  Thee! 

Alone  with  Thee,  amid  the  mystic  shadows, 
The  solemn  hush  of  nature  newly  born  ; 

Alone  with  Thee  in  breathless  adoration, 
In  the  calm  dew  and  freshness  of  the  morn. 

As  in  the  dawning  o'er  the  waveless  ocean 
The  image  of  the  morning  star  doth  rest, 

So  in  this  stillness  Thou  beholdest  only 
Thine  image  in  the  waters  of  my  breast. 

Still,  still  with  Thee  !   as  to  each  new-born  morning 
A  fresh  and  solemn  splendor  still  is  given, 

So  doth  the  blessed  consciousness,  awaking, 

Breathe,  each  day,  nearness  unto  Thee  and  heaven. 

When  sinks  the  soul,  subdued  by  toil,  to  slumber, 
Its  closing  eye  looks  up  to  Thee  in  prayer ; 

Sweet  the  repose  beneath  the  wings  o'ershading, 
But  sweeter  still  to  wake  and  find  Thee  there. 


WHEN   I  AWAKE   I  AM   STILL   WITH   THEE          357 

So  shall  it  be  at  last,  in  that  bright  morning 
When  the  soul  waketh  and  life's  shadows  flee ; 

0  in  that  hour,  fairer  than  daylight  dawning, 

Shall  rise  the  glorious  thought,  /  am  with  Thee  ! 


PRESSED  FLOWERS  FROM  ITALY 


A   DAY   IN   THE   PAMFILI    DOBIA 

THOUGH  the  hills  are  cold  and  snowy, 
And  the  wind  drives  chill  to-day, 

My  heart  goes  back  to  a  spring-time, 
Far,  far  in  the  past  away. 

And  I  see  a  quaint  old  city, 

Weary  and  worn  and  brown, 
Where  the  spring  and  the  birds  are  so  early, 

And  the  sun  in  such  light  goes  down. 

I  remember  that  old-times  villa, 
Where  our  afternoons  went  by, 

Where  the  suns  of  March  flushed  warmly, 
And  spring  was  in  earth  and  sky. 

Out  of  the  mouldering  city, 

Mouldering,  old,  and  gray, 
We  sped,  with  a  lightsome  heart-thrill, 

For  a  sunny,  gladsome  day,  — 

For  a  revel  of  fresh  spring  verdure, 
For  a  race  'mid  springing  flowers, 

For  a  vision  of  plashing  fountains, 
Of  birds  and  blossoming  bowers. 


A  DAY   IN   THE   PAMFILI   DORIA  359 

There  were  violet  banks  in  the  shadows, 

Violets  white  and  blue  ; 
And  a  world  of  bright  anemones, 

That  over  the  terrace  grew,  — 

Blue  and  orange  and  purple, 

Kosy  and  yellow  and  white, 
Rising  in  rainbow  bubbles, 

Streaking  the  lawns  with  light. 

And  down  from  the  old  stone  pine-trees, 

Those  far-off  islands  of  air, 
The  birds  are  flinging  the  tidings 

Of  a  joyful  revel  up  there. 

And  now  for  the  grand  old  fountains, 

Tossing  their  silvery  spray, 
Those  fountains  so  quaint  and  so  many, 

That  are  leaping  and  singing  all  day. 

Those  fountains  of  strange  weird  sculpture, 

With  lichens  and  moss  o'ergrown, 
Are  they  marble  greening  in  moss-wreaths  ? 

Or  mosS'Wreaths  whitening  to  stone  ? 

Down  many  a  wild,  dim  pathway 
We  ramble  from  morning  till  noon  \ 

We  linger,  unheeding  the  hours, 
Till  evening  comes  all  too  soon* 

And  from  out  the  ilex  alleys, 

Where  lengthening  shadows  play, 
We  look  on  the  dreamy  Campagna, 

All  glowing  with  setting  day,  — 


360  PRESSED   FLOWERS   FROM   ITALY 

All  melting  in  bands  of  purple, 
In  swathings  and  foldings  of  gold, 

In  ribands  of  azure  and  lilac, 
Like  a  princely  banner  unrolled. 

And  the  smoke  of  each  distant  cottage, 
And  the  flash  of  each  villa  white, 

Shines  out  with  an  opal  glimmer, 
Like  gems  in  a  casket  of  light. 

And  the  dome  of  old  St.  Peter's 
With  a  strange  translucence  glows, 

Like  a  mighty  bubble  of  amethyst 
Floating  in  waves  of  rose. 

In  a  trance  of  dreamy  vagueness 
We,  gazing  and  yearning,  behold 

That  city  beheld  by  the  prophet, 
Whose  walls  were  transparent  gold. 

And,  dropping  all  solemn  and  slowly, 
To  hallow  the  softening  spell, 

There  falls  on  the  dying  twilight 
The  Ave  Maria  bell. 

With  a  mournful,  motherly  softness, 
With  a  weird  and  weary  care, 

That  strange  arid  ancient  city 

Seems  calling  the  nations  to  prayer. 

And  the  words  that  of  old  the  angel 
To  the  mother  of  Jesus  brought, 

Rise  like  a  new  evangel, 

To  hallow  the  trance  of  our  thought. 


A   DAY   IN   THE    PAMFILI   DORIA  361 

With  the  smoke  of  the  evening  incense, 

Our  thoughts  are  ascending  then 
To  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus, 

To  Jesus,  the  Master  of  men. 

O  city  of  prophets  and  martyrs, 

0  shrines  of  the  sainted  dead, 
When,  when  shall  the  living  day-spring 

Once  more  on  your  towers  be  spread  ? 

When  He  who  is  meek  and  lowly 

Shall  rule  in  those  lordly  halls, 
And  shall  stand  and  feed  as  a  shepherd 

The  flock  which  his  mercy  calls,  — 

0  then  to  those  noble  churches, 

To  picture  and  statue  and  gem, 
To  the  pageant  of  solemn  worship, 

Shall  the  meaning  come  back  again. 

And  this  strange  and  ancient  city, 
In  that  reign  of  His  truth  and  love, 

Shall  be  what  it  seems  in  the  twilight, 
The  type  of  that  City  above. 


THE  GARDENS  OF  THE  VATICAN 

SWEET  fountains,  plashing  with  a  dreamy  fall, 
And  mosses  green,  and  tremulous  veils  of  fern, 
And  banks  of  blowing  cyclamen,  and  stars, 
Blue  as  the  skies,  of  myrtle  blossoming, 
The  twilight  shade  of  ilex  overhead 
O'erbubbling  with  sweet  song  of  nightingale, 
With  walks  of  strange,  weird  stillness,  leading  on 
'Mid  sculptured  fragments  half  to  green  moss  gone, 
Or  breaking  forth  amid  the  violet  leaves 
With  some  white  gleam  of  an  old  world  gone  by. 
Ah  !   strange,  sweet  quiet !  wilderness  of  calm, 
Gardens  of  dreamy  rest,  I  long  to  lay 
Beneath  your  shade  the  last  long  sigh,  and  say, 
Here  is  my  home,  my  Lord,  thy  home  and  mine  j 
And  I,  having  searched  the  world  with  many  a  tear, 
At  last  have  found  thee  and  will  stray  no  more. 
But  vainly  here  I  seek  the  Gardener 
That  Mary  saw.     These  lovely  halls  beyond, 
That  airy,  sky-like  dome,  that  lofty  fane, 
Is  as  a  palace  whence  the  king  is  gone 
And  taken  all  the  sweetness  with  himself. 
Turn  again,  Jesus,  and  possess  thine  own  ! 
Come  to  thy  temple  once  more  as  of  old  ! 
Drive  forth  the  money-changers,  let  it  be 
A  house  of  prayer  for  nations.     Even  so, 
Amen  1     Amen  I 


ST.    PETEE'S    CHUECH 

HOLY  WEEK,  APRIL,  1860 

O  FAIEEST  mansion  of  a  Father's  love, 
Harmonious  !  hospitable  !  with  thine  arms 
Outspread  to  all,  thy  fountains  ever  full, 
And,  fair  as  heaven,  thy  misty,  sky-like  dome 
Hung  like  the  firmament  with  circling  sweep 
Above  the  constellated  golden  lamps 
That  burn  forever  round  the  holy  tomb. 
Most  meet  art  thou  to  be  the  Father's  house, 
The  house  of  prayer  for  nations.      Come  the  time 
When  thou  shalt  be  so  !   when  a  liberty, 
Wide  as  thine  arms,  high  as  thy  lofty  dome, 
Shall  be  proclaimed,  by  thy  loud  singing  choirs, 
Like  voice  of  many  waters !     Then  the  Lord 
Shall  come  into  his  temple,  and  make  pure 
The  sons  of  Levi ;  then,  as  once  of  old, 
The  blind  shall  see,  the  lame  leap  as  an  hart, 
And  to  the  poor  the  Gospel  shall  be  preached, 
And  Easter's  silver-sounding  trumpets  tell, 
"  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,"  to  die  no  more. 
Hasten  it  in  its  time.     Amen  !  Amen  ! 


THE   MISEKERE 

of  the  earth  that  music !  all  things  fade  ; 
Vanish  the  pictured  walls !  and,  one  by  one, 
The  starry  candles  silently  expire  ! 

And  now,  O  Jesus  !  round  that  silent  cross 

A  moment's  pause,  a  hush  as  of  the  grave. 

Now  rises  slow  a  silver  mist  of  sound, 

And  all  the  heavens  break  out  in  drops  of  grief ; 

A  rain  of  sobbing  sweetness,  swelling,  dying, 

Voice  into  voice  inweaving  with  sweet  throbs, 

And  fluttering  pulses  of  impassioned  moan,  — 

Veiled  voices,  in  whose  wailing  there  is  awe, 

And  mysteries  of  love  and  agony, 

A  yearning  anguish  of  celestial  souls, 

A  shiver  as  of  wings  trembling  the  air, 

As  if  God's  shining  doves,  his  spotless  birds, 

Wailed  with  a  nightingale's  heart-break  of  grief, 

In  this  their  starless  night,  when  for  our  sins 

Their  sun,  their  life,  their  love,  hangs  darkly  there, 

Like  a  slain  lamb,  bleeding  his  life  away  ! 


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